[ WP ] Describe daily life in a world that experiences only an hour or two of sunlight every 24-hour period .

Gerry Schultz rolls out of bed. Not literally, but it was n't the kind of graceful rising that we all wish we could have upon waking. He claps his hands, thus activating his bedroom lights. He walks over to his desk, murmuring incoherently, and turns off his alarm. He goes back to bed and sleeps for another hour. He could n't find the motivation to clap the lights off. 
 
 Gerry wishes he could be more motivated. He's been trying to wake up earlier so he can properly prepare for his day. He has n't been successful. He's spent the last few weeks avoiding the scarce daylight in favor of trading. The second alarm wakes him and he prepares for work. 
 
 Gerry walks out the front door to greet a starless sky, the moon shining dimly through a thin cloud cover. It is a pleasantly cool night, and he fruitlessly reconsiders wearing his wool suit jacket. He fires up his white Mustang. He's proud of its glimmering paint job. People will see him driving, even in the seemingly eternal darkness. 
 
 The street lights whiten all in their reach. Clusters of dull black plants encroach on the bright circles wherever they can. Gerry ponders the plants' resourcefulness: they capitalize on every ray of light, intentionally not reflecting even a faint glimmer. They are ruthless in their gathering of precious life energy. Just like Gerry needs to be with money. Thousands of transactions an hour, all performed out of selfless greed – a burning, unyielding desire to extract profit for his firm. He mentally channels the energy of the Sanguine Fern, its broad leaves eclipsing all that happen to lie below, its thick stock growing just tall enough to out-compete all other light gathering life forms, its red sap pulsing through it with passion, like blood stirred in the heat of the chase. These magnificent beings line his street in place of trees. It's why Gerry chose to live here. 
 
 He starts his car and drives to work. He seats himself in his ergonomic office chair and starts his computer. Its monitors dance with graphs, lists and figures – the result of algorithms recommending trading strategies. Hours pass like minutes, buying and selling seem to blend together, all of the data seeming to flow toward a great and endless sea. By lunch, he realizes he's up five million dollars. He shuts down his computer and leaves, satisfied by yet another spectacular day of trading. He will treat himself at sunrise. 
 
 After lunch, Gerry returns home. He changes into sweatpants and binges on Netflix. Today is a good day for scotch on the rocks. After three, maybe four drinks he checks on the living room window. The sky is brightening. It's time to get ready. 
 
 He seems to remove his clothes with a religious gentleness, savoring the feeling of fabric sliding about the body. He notices the coolness of fresh air touching his exposed genitals. He adorns his slippers and heads out the door. Today he will drive to Central Park. That's where the action usually is, the best selection of partners. He's been working on his abs lately. The top two are now showing, which speaks well of his odds to meet a suitably fit partner. 
 
 Parking will be a nuisance, but a minor one in the grand scheme of things. Did he remember to take his venereal protection regiment? If not, missing one day could n't be that bad. Nothing a trip to the doctor ca n't fix. 
 
 He walks under the arch greeting visitors to Central Park. Already, people are gathering and laying about, claiming their soon-to-be lit real-estate. He spots a group of young women preparing to sunbathe and introduces himself. They talk for about twenty minutes and then the sun rises. Gerry is surrounded by illuminated blackness – the trees, the shrubs, the grass, all of it contrasting sharply with the assorted naked bodies. The random chatter begins to still. Voices deepen, speech slows and becomes more deliberate. Eyes lock. Two of the women seated beside Gerry begin to hug and kiss. One begins to masturbate, a redhead with landing strip pubic hair. The fuckening has begun. 
 
 Gerry is inclined to reflect on his first fuckening – he always is, it was such a memorable experience. All of his pent up angst released all at once. He resits the urge and engages with the brunette to his left. Two hours pass and the sky begins to darken again. The gathered nudes begin to disperse, and Gerry heads home to sleep, totally enthralled by the prospect of another day, and maybe another fuckening if he has the time. He will sleep well tonight.
