The Umbrella

An incredible, eight-foot heap. It stood now tall, misshapen, and blinking stupidly, but it had started with just one mobile phone, cast down into the dirt like a firmly-planted flag. Word spread and more people came, and more devices were thrown down, and cheers were raised, for the people were taking back society.

The river reflected the city of Northwilde. It fled the mountains and carved dark furrows across the land. It careened through bleak suburbs and crashed into downtown, gathering a scum of polluted refuse and depositing it on slimy banks of discarded fast food wrappers. The squat silhouette of the new bridge jutted out across the water, and the brightest lights in the city had gathered around a twinkling marquee on the shore.