( ):Label, Year Rec/Rel
ALL LYRICS COPIED VERBATIM FROM NEWSPAPERS EXCEPT AS INDICATED
THANKS TO ALBERT II WHO DESERVED BETTER
The Plexiglass domes flow across the surface of the Moon like fields of wheat. Built using prison labor in 1970 and '71, they exist in an official vapor-realm: their documentation isn't suppressed per se, but is camouflaged by needless technical jargon that runs into the thousands of pages. These files are available to the public, but they sit in file cabinets somewhere near Orlando, gathering dust and serving their purpose thereby.
In the thirty-four years since the construction of the domes was completed, over five thousand bodies have been sent there, to exist permanently on life support in a totally sterile environment. These bodies have provided organs to every major hospital in the western world. The crew that tends them was culled from various centers where the forgotten gather: soup kitchens, used bookstores, public parks. They rotate out of duty every six months, spending their time on Earth in opulent but total seclusion on government-owned land in Colorado. Those who have family find their husbands or wives, their children or parents, waiting for them at home when they return.
Our protagonist is a man who, bored out of his mind working in the organ-harvesting domes of the Moon, takes to sleeping in one of the life-supporting apparatuses intended only for the only-technically-alive bodies he stewards. Our story begins on during his sojourn back home in the dead of winter, brought to you in hidden infrastructure.