The ghost ballet

The sun peeks over the mountains and shines on the solar arrays, bringing the theatre to life.
Diagnostics run, repair units scuttle over wires, calibrating laser arrays and fusing blown circuits.
Basement air compressors hum, smoke machines laying blankets of fog on the stage.
Hologram generators summon their ghosts, weaving ballerinas from light.
Memories of long dead beauty, standing guard over tattered curtains and rotted-away sets.
The music rises over the empty seats, and the dance begins.
A performance for the rats, the cockroaches, the worms.
The sun goes down, the theater goes silent, and the ghosts fade into night.

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