"The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,"

It's miserable outside today. The rain is mixing with the fog and the smog and it looks terrible. Kind of green in a toxic, 'breath this and you'll die' sort of way. Needless to say, I won't be heading outside. Mum wouldn't let me out anyway, not without a mask and I hate those things. They're uncomfortable and make everybody look the same. I hate that. You can never tell who you're talking to and weirdos on the street like to pretend they know you, just so they can steal your wallet while your're engrossed in conversation. It's not the same world as it used to be and people are dissapearing or dying or running away on a regular basis. Seeing someone you know on the street now is a luxury, rather than a regular occurance.

I can't remember not carrying the masks, though Mum and Dad have told me there was a time when we didn't have to. Better to carry them than not now though. You never know when you'll need them. One gust of wind is enough to make you choke. No-one knows where it's all coming from. One day the world was enjoying fresh, albeit slightly smokey and perhaps a little smoggy during peak hour, air and the next toxic fumes. Gases that no-one knew the name of and came from who knows where. It was mid-morning the first time, so most people were at school or in their offices or driving to work. Anyone who didn't manage to get inside fast enough died. Funny thing, people were dropping like flies, but animals seemed fine. Even those with a biological structure almost identical to ours seemed unfazed by the whole thing. It was if they were still breathing the cool, clean air that were were now being denied. And even now, after all these years or masks and death, there's still been no side effects on our furry friends. No-one knows why, but there's about a million people studying it. Some of them are convinced if we inject ourselves with the blood of animals then we'll be alright. Take on some of their antibodies and be free to walk around inhaling the crap that's infected our air. I think I'll pass. It hasn't been proven to work anyway. And even if it had....something about going around inhaling that stuff like it's normal, doesn't sit well with me. It doesn't seem right. Or safe. Behold my rampant paranoia!

My friend Berry is convinced he's psychic. Or an empath. Or something, I don't know. He 'communes' with the animals on a regular basis and is convinced they know something we don't. I don't think the animals know much of anything. And if they were able to think or communicate about anything other than food and crapping everywhere, then they'd probably just be wondering what all the fuss was about. I wouldn't be suprised if they thought us all morons. Not that I don't like animals. And not that I don't think they don't have brains and minds and what have you. I just don't feel the need to read into the animal 'psyche' as much as Berry does. Despite his name, he's not that sweet, Our Berry. His mother named him because she was craving berries all through her pregnancy. Blueberries, blackberries, rasberries. Berry has huge bowls of them on every brithday, as a treat. It's not as easy to get specialty fruits like that anymore. Aside from berries on Berry's birthday, I've only ever had apples and oranges. I've had candy that's meant to taste like other fruits, pineapple, watermelon etc, but I don't think that counts. Berry's family are pretty well off. The have a house with a backyard. It's all glassed in, like most of the parks and gardens in our neighbourhood. The grass is synthetic, but Berry's mother has some plants hanging around in pots and things. Most things don't grow too well without natural light, but they have water in abundance - Berry's mother grows alot of ferns. I like ferns, I have a tiny one in a little pot in my room. Berry gave it to me as a present. Dad has a cactus collection in our living room. Most afternoons he'll wander up to the top of our building and so they can take in the best of the afternoon sun. I can't imagine it's much fun, sitting on the roof with a mask on for hours, but he says he uses the time to catch up on work and reading and whatnot.

I don't see too much of my parents. Not together, anyway. Mum does the day shift, Dad does the night shift. They're scientists. So are Berry's parents and the parents of most of our friends. Our town is home to one of the largest scientific research centres and military bases in the world. Almost everyone who lives here is employed at the Orion facility. I don't know much about my parents work. Bits and pieces I've picked up on, mostly from the occassional glance at their notes or catching part of their rare conversations with work colleagues. Thats one thing about everybody here: The Orion looms over us, all the time, but no-one ever talks about it. Talking with my parents generally consists of what my plans are for the week and how my friends are doing, whats for dinner tomorrow night and have I cleaned my room? They don't even talk to eachother about their work. Classified is a word that's always on the edge of everyone's lips, but because of the silently accepted black out on all talk of Orion and it's 'projects', it's rarely said. Now, don't get me wrong - I don't think they're up to anything dodgy. It's not like that at all. I mean, the whole 'thou shalt not speak' thing is a little suspect, but I get a really strong vibe from that place, from the people who work there...that everything's going to be ok. I know that my parents and the people we know work really hard and value what they're doing. I couldn't, for a second, think that they'd do anything that would risk or endanger anyone. I guess I'm saying this because I've read enough sci-fi novels and watched enough TV to know that everyone has specific ideas about huge scientific miltiary bases. There's a stigma attached to them, I guess you could say. But no. I've always felt safe here. Gas or no. And having Orion looking over my shoulder has always been a great comfort to me.

I think about these things alot. I don't know if any of the others feel this way. If any of them did it'd have to be Berry. I don't know whether to tell him or not, which is strange, because I've always been able to tell him everything, without a doubt in my mind at all. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I should start having secrets of my own or something. Everyone else seems to have them.