I’m in a cabaret. In the distance I can see the crown of the Chrysler Building and at same time hear the enigmatic voice of Ella Fitzgerald who seems to speak to aliens who play with my essence.
I see some silhouettes in the dark.
I still remember that Marinetti, or Pollak of Light Gang, spoke of a zeppelin that would allow us to escape from this corrupted world dominated by the tyranny of the enemy forces together with the factions of METROPOLIS.
But there’s still a chance…
When I was a little boy, I was told that I’d be the bridge that would unite all sides in this bloody city.
I’m a cog in the diesel-shaped machine
. Yes, my blood is not normal, but it’s made of Diesel, the primary substance that makes the Maschinenmensch, the human machinery moves, and the city is renewed at every moment, rebuilding itself at ease.
But if my rare diesel shaped blood is misused it can lead to a stage of drunkenness that could communicate with the cabalistic forces… I’ve got to fire this rocket….