looking out across the painfully white bright of the plaza, he sensed some movement behind him and in his agitated state, whirled about with his arms outheld bent at the elbow and crossed at the wrist. he faced his own reflection in the glass but shuddered and shook at the knowledge of the minuscule machines – marauding, malignant – that comprised its seemingly silky surface. an impulse boiled up to lash out and smash the pane, but was quickly replaced by the knowledge that no such event could ever occur. any number of scenarios flashed before his now tightly closed eyes, in which the glass remained intact after repeated blows, absorbing each force as a source of energy, registering the heat signature from his fist, and redirecting all towards efficiency and productivity. he grumbled and cleared his throat. turning again to the plaza, he breathed deeply and stepped out.
eviscerated by the light.