The Architect

Ray Palmer was an architect for the city department of urban planning, a role he'd held for over thirty years. He was, by all accounts, a resounding success. His designs had won countless awards, and recognition flowed to him as easily as children flock to an ice cream truck on a summer day. Yet, Ray was not content. His true desire was a transfer to the state health department, where he could take charge of designing a new hospital. This hospital, which he hoped would be a children’s hospital due to his soft spot for kids, would be his magnum opus. It would be his chef-d’œuvre, his obra maestra, his masterpiece.

Today, Ray drew the final line on his latest project: a daring art deco water treatment plant commissioned by the city. It was to be built in the bustling city center, a project that, by design, would become an attraction in and of itself. Ray believed something built to last a hundred years had no right to be derelict from the moment of its creation. It was this unwavering pride that drove him out of bed every morning. And it was this same pride that fueled his dream of designing a hospital. He believed the sickly, especially, deserved beauty in their lives, and it was his deepest hope to bring it to them.

With a final meticulous touch, he added what he called the "soul" to his drawing, a small alcove tucked just under the roof, the metaphorical heart and mind of the building. He had first started adding these souls as a boy, to the drawing of a cabin in the woods, "so that good thoughts can gather here and grow."

A bird’s elegant cry pulled the architect from his reverie. He looked up, squinting to spot the feathered singer. A blinding ray of light caught his eye, and in the next moment, a steel beam caught him in the head. He fell to the ground, the world turning black as a single, crimson stain bloomed on his pristine blueprint. The water treatment plant, his latest creation, was still just a drawing. His masterpiece, the hospital, was a dream unfulfilled. All his awards and success felt meaningless in the face of this sudden, silent end. He died, his blueprint fluttering away in the wind.