Last night I watched the robots play in the bright lights of the city sky, with a dear old friend.
He is one of my sweetest friends, the person I would lie on my back in the grass with and watch the dinosaurs fight in the clouds. We would talk about life, the universe, and nothing. We'd count shooting stars and make impossible wishes that eventually came true.
But tonight there were no stars, and no clouds. Just the shadows and the city lights. So we watched the lights, and faces started to emerge. The Suncorp building became a poignant, slopey-eyed robot, having a one-sided conversation with the smaller and more attractive building next door. A pirate building with an eye patch watched these two for a while with a bored expression, until the lights switched off and his eyes closed.
Our hearts raced as the lights were flicked off in each office floor, flashes of light upon which we made more silly wishes.
We spent a long time watching the solitary office light on the top floor, which remained ablaze until the early hours of the morning. We imagined what the stranger behind those walls was doing, who he was, who he wasn't. Lonely, receding hairline, delusions of grandeur and adventure? Fresh, ambitious, dedicated, surreptitious? Affairs, office desk, betrayal, passion, stereotype? Somehow it was more stimulating than watching the planets and the imagined inhabitants of Jupiter. I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.