Gг©nг©rique

He got out of bed, dressed in his , and walked out the door. He didn't look back at the HOUSE . He walked toward the edge of the gray, toward the brown dirt and the rusted metal, waiting for the moment the credits would finally roll so the real movie could begin.

The sky over the city was a flat, unrendered gray. There were no clouds, only the suggestion of them. In the city of Générique, every building was a perfect, windowless cube of brushed concrete. Every car was a matte-silver sedan with no brand name on the grill. GГ©nГ©rique

"Do you ever feel," Elias began, his voice echoing in the minimalist room, "like we’re waiting for the real thing to start?" He got out of bed, dressed in his , and walked out the door