/ic/ - Artwork/Critique

>>1739251

Tonight i made a strange dream: the world is in some kind of post-aphocalictic disaster, i find myself at a low floor of a tall building at night, probably an old hospital, who has been arranged as a the place to live for a quite large group of people, solar panels on the roof provide electricity.
I take the elevator to an upper floor, when i get out a man welcome me, he was waiting for my arrival, he is shaked, something will soon appen; he orders a technician to turn off the power on the other floors, seems like this night we need it all for us. Now, the only light sources are the reflex of the spotlights that guards are using outside through the glass wall, and the door of an illuminated room in the end of an alley.
The man tells distractly about how his management helped to improve the quality of the sojourn in this place while guides me there, i don't listen to him. He opens the door and lets me in.
The bright light blinds me for a second; a group of familiar people turn in my direction, they are all set down facing a point of the room from which comes the slow, regoular sound of a machine for the measure of the heart-rate.
They are all serious, cordially salute me, someone stands up and give me a path on the back, nobody tells me why i am there, and however i'm not interested in listening it from them since i'm about to discover it anyway.
They peacefully return to their positions, and i mimic them.
Now we are all whatcing at an hospital bed in which figure is higly covered with a blanket.
I do some steps towards it.
Even if i can only see the head, i can tell the figure is no bigger than a baby, and, as easily, i can tell it isn't a baby, due to the old, emaciated aspect of the head.
CONTINUE...