Toward the end of my work-in-progess The Wind , the character of a foetus floating over the city is introduced. The foetus, is known in The Wind erroneously but much more snappily, as the Beorma Embryo, and floats where the work on the Beorma Quarter is currently taking place.
The new proposals are talked about relentlessly by the inhabitants: mocked and denigrated, or alternatively, praised and revered. Old and faithful buildings such as Stephenson Tower and Birmingham Central Library are, respectfully wrapped in plastic and demolished. The narrator is worried about this, fearful that the city that contains so many memories will be changed beyond recognition into a mass of glass-fronted buildings and coffee-drinkers.
The Beorma Embryo, is said to “respond to existing Birmingham landmarks such as the Rotunda and Selfridges.” Artistic license on my part considers the Embryo to be therefore mute, but telepathic, communicating all the other buildings within the City Centre it’s thoughts, dreams, and fears. Ultimately, the Embryo communicates to the narrator. The narrator unwillingly becomes the channel for the city’s inner voices, and pathetic fallacy starts to consume his every waking thought.
Will the narrator escape to the suburbs? Is he doomed to walk the streets constantly in the name of journalism and psychogeography? Will something like THIS happen?