hammerhead fields forever
I’m in a factory. There’s a conveyor belt with hundreds of tin cans flowing by every minute. A woman’s voice drones over a loudspeaker, narrating the contents of the cans in a dull monotone.
The noise and clamor of the factory are really fucking irritating. I look down and and I’m holding a huge sledgehammer in my hands.
When I look back up I’m standing outdoors in a meadow full of tall grass and bushes. But the sky and the plants are all gray. The same shade of steely-gray as the hammer-head.