The ship is ready to set sail, I like when the water is a syrupy black thing, it always looks like it's breathing, it laps the docks and the bells always ring for me. There are sparse white gulls and occasionally a turtle on the red bank will be chewing on a piece of bark or strewn lettuce.
The far-away and hazy metropolis is a living thing, the sleek robots all move in unison, synthetic clouds and a freshly created atmosphere blot out a digital skyline, no toxins, no plumes of smoke and fires, the mechanical arms of cranes insert and extract the agents with deadly precision and accuracy, there are leaves on the water, each vein masterfully painted and entirely artificial.