Flushed Away 1 10 | 8K 2027 |

He didn't know. He had no number to guide him. He only had his tiny, trembling self, and the memory of the journey. The Grease-Falls. The Warden. The leap.

He was a single drop of water. But he was him . A tiny, perfect sphere of consciousness wrapped in surface tension. flushed away 1 10

The rain fell in sheets, a percussive drumming against the London cobblestones. Beneath the city, in the great churning arteries of the sewer system, it sounded different. There, it was a muffled roar, a constant white noise that blended with the hiss of steam and the distant, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the great pumps. He didn't know

It was a 1-in-10 chance any pipe led to the sun. But the wall led straight up. It was a thousand times his height. It was impossible. He was a single drop of water. The Grease-Falls

He began to move, a steady, determined roll along a slick of bio-film. His first challenge: The Grease-Falls.

For a scrap of a thing, no bigger than a thimble, that noise was a lullaby.

He landed in a pool of stagnant tea, shared a brief, silent greeting with a piece of floating parsley, and continued.