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Leave Your Aspirations at the Dump

Somewhere in the south pacific putrifying under the unrelenting tropical sun is a vast peninsula composed of the discarded scraps of civilization. A steady stream of colossal barges continuously added to the mass, causing it to expand in every direction.  The churning heap was a steadily shifting form. Uneven growing mounds of decaying mass mortared together around iron heaps. Each new layer accumulated held the scraps tossed away by an insatiable world. Like a metastasizing sickness, its poison seeped into the ocean.
Plastic forks, prayer cards, monuments, Digimon, batteries this is where everything was valued by the most impartial of standards, its utility for survival.
Living in the shadows of revolting spires that had accumulated refuse piled so high only the squalling seagulls could reach the summit were the scavengers was a little girl nearing the end of a harsh, obscure, and brief existence. Like the birds and rats, the bacteria, and the mold she subsisted on decay.
Physically she resembled a human child, but her existence lacked any uniquely human aspects. She had no family, no dreams, not even a name. She was just another wasting body counting down the hours until her flesh would become part of another scavengers bounty.
Three people were walking towards her. Their clothes were a patchwork of disintegrating rags, and their hands were covered by tattered rubber dish gloves. One of them wore a soldiers helmet while the other two had baseball helmets and their faces were obscured by surgical masks. They were pushing a wobbling cart full of scrap. The little girl leaned against a rusted doorless fridge, and obliquely looked down at her feet. The scrap men seeming unmoved by the emaciated child silently wheeled past her.
She was quietly looking for a place to wind down her final moments in relative quiet. She shuffled along until she found the gutted and rusted remains of an oven built into the base of the wall. She squatted down and looked inside. The back was cut out opening up to the other side of the colossal barrier.
Activating emergency physiological mechanisms, she found the will to crawl through to the other side to look for any life-sustaining morsel that would help her maintain a tenuous link to earthly existence just a little longer.
 Painted on what looked like a bulbous and wingless airplane was a mural of a bright red ball with the words
MISSION TO MARS wrapped around the crimson orb. Even more prominent on the hulking wreck were giant portraits of children, children of every skin tone and dressed in an array of traditional ethnic outfits. They all had aesthetically perfect smiles with straight gleaming white teeth.
“FOR US!”
Was painted above the mural.
Attached to the back were four giant bell-shaped appendaged. The weary girl climbed into the dark crevice, she curled up her body and listened to the high pitched squalling of the birds,  and the dull thumping of a hammer against steel. She closed her eyes listened as every sound reverberating from the world around her she heard with new clarity. She listened to the world until the ambiance petered out into eternal silence.

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