The date of your "execution", or, the date as of now.

You'd just been proclaimed guilty of a murder you hadn't committed, mostly because of the fact you were caught with the body. You were the witness, not the cause, but unfortunately, they didn't believe you. And so, long story short, you're here, staring over the edge of the gaping ravine your town referred to as 'the abyss'. Maybe things could've been different, but no, politics are always incredibly against you. How dissapointing.

You close your eyes, preparing for your impending doom via height, as the executor announces to the crowd of your "pleasant" riddance. Harsh. You hadn't even committed this crime. Your life's end isn't something to be celebrated, and you know that. You're better than that. Maybe death was the better option, maybe it truly was better than living in a town that celebrated a peers' death. Maybe this was God taking your side for once, offering you the sweet relief of death as an escape from this wretched town. One can only hope.

You felt the rough hands of the executor shove against your back, as you began to plummet into the abyss, face first, head first. At least your death would be quick, less painful. The air shoved against your face like a strong wind, your eyes still shut, refusing to see what was at the bottom. You didn't want to see your grave. After all, your grave is your cities' trash site. That's right. All the trash gets dumped in the abyss. Maybe you're trash now.

You hit the ground, the shock waves spiking through your body from the tip of your nose to the ends of your shoes. You fall unconscious. But, you find yourself awake, weary, yet most definitely alive. A man of tall stature, an umbrella opened over his head, a full-face gas mask shielding himself from the toxic fumes that seemed to now cause you to cough. He stared down at you, before reaching around in his pockets and shoving a half-faced gas mask onto your mouth. Aggressive much. And then he spoke.

"... a skyperson. What are you doing down here?"