No one paid much attention when it first poked through the demolition zone like a stinkhorn fungus.
As it grew, folks assumed it was an advertising stunt for some new “essential” product. Like smart phones, bathrooms, and dry cleaners.
Public opinion trending on twitter suggested, a “fashion-forward” developer, perhaps “from away” with a flair for the exotic. The fungus continued it’s upward reach.
At 50 stories, conspiracy theorists, New Agers, CNN and Fox weighed in. Weapon of mass protection; tower to transmit signals through the invisible to inculcate the masses; set for a block buster movie.
When dawn light 65 stories with it’s radiant fingers, the dooms-dayers and the naysayers waltzed a picket line while futurologists, magicians, and gardeners held a joint conference in it’s shadow-print of 92 stories.
The general populace was drawn or repelled by the towering fungus. Small children and 104 year-old great-great-great-grandfathers all had their own opinion as to what the fungus represented and who was responsible.
Edgar G. of Curmudgeon Lane wasn’t about to be fooled into thinking the world was coming to an end. A retired engineer, Edgar simply said, “It’s another GD office tower to be filled by worker ants. WTF is the problem? Armageddon is gonna look a whole lot worse than this stupid piece of architectural design.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction, January 24, 2016.