[i]Eons before the Wal was all, there was a vision and a man with a conviction. The Great Sam, or as he was once known, Sam Walton, the founder of Wal-Industries. 

When the first residential supermarts were unveiled by The Great Sam to the public, thousands of people, from the down-trodden to the highest echelons of society, flocked together in droves to seek new lives, an eternity of shopping and buying. Under the guidance of the Great Sam, the first Wal Trade Zone was born, an autonomous city unto itself with sovereign rights. Unfortunately , the Great Sam would never live to see the future, for he tragically passed away after drinking over-expired milk. 

When the Board took over the reigns of the Wal, the Buy-Out began, a systematic strategy of securing global socio-economic dominance through repealing anti-monopoly and corporation regulation laws.  Wal-Industries spread its reach across the globe like a fungus. Lesser businesses and corporations were trampled underneath the heel of the Wal. Soon, health insurance was replaced by Wal-Care insurance. Entire education curriculums were replaced by Wal-School programmes. Power plants were supplanted by Wal-Energy. Wal-Industries was everything and everywhere. 

It wasn’t destruction that consumed our planet but rather, chaos. When Wal-Industries went boom, the world went bust. The Third World, a coalition of old governments, rebels and political activists, struck back against the tyranny of Wal-Industries. Violence broke out. Mayhem ensued. Blood was spilt on both sides. Society edged precariously towards collapse.  In the end, the supermarts that were once a monument to our excesses became the salvation and future of mankind. On Opening Day, we learned to enjoy our stay in the Wal. 

Fortunately, the customers of the Wal are adaptable. The new inhabitants of the Wal spreaded out and formed tribal societies, built enclaves, established settlements. The religious mechanics of Auto N Tires. The reclusive Tron Boys of Electronics. The tribal Pet-Masters of Pets and Animals. The barbarian hordes of Groceries. The antiquated lords of Stationary.  These are but a fraction of the Departments that populate the Wal today. Alas, they are beset by those who have lost themselves to the madness of the Wal, the malfunctioning automatons living on past programming and mutated monstrosities in every aisle. 

Such is life in the Wal. 

Who am I? I am the Greeter, and I have seen dozens of stories and tales of triumph and survival in the bowels of the Wal from the vigil of the security cameras. We now follow a lonely boat sailing through the Spillway, a river of waste that courses through the northern sections of the Wal. Within this vessel lies a crew of Lifters in charge of protecting a mysterious package…….[/i]


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Scat didn’t like water. He stared back into the brackish depths of the flowing currents and a soup of bobbing trash stared back. Where a shopper would see a plain cleanup, he’d see a thousand different jaws gnashing at him when he turned his back. 

However, the two fools near the stern of the turtle-fish had other ideas about caution. 

One of the pair laughs out loud, his face a high-pitched red. His mouth splits into a drunken grim as he takes another sucking swig from the test of his baby bottle. “ I swear, one of these days, Keenex, I’m gunna get me a discount. A real good 10% or 20%......” 

Behind him was presumably his friend. A Kleaner. His gas mask did little to hide the concern in his voice. “Oh, for Sam’s sake, Samow, get off there before you hurt yourself.” He reaches out a hand to catch his friend before he can tumble headfirst into the frothing waters below.

“ Ge… get ‘way fwem me.  Look at me, man….. I’m a dire goldfish.” The drunken shopper flapped his arms like a dire pidgeon, nearly falling off the deck of the ship.

Scat turned away from the scene and instead, looked out towards the majesty of the Spillway. They were approaching a tributary that sliced around the carcass of an gargantuan Shelf that was crumbling by the second. The scotch-taped hull cut through the streams that poured out of the Restroom Basins. The engine hastily chugged along the river, with only the fabled power of Wdee Fortee keeping the vessel afloat. 

There was a hiss from his side. Paw’s ears were stuck flat to his side, baring his buck-tooth teeth and raising his hackles. Brushing his fur did little to soothe the rabbit. 

Scat signed.Hopefully this package would earn him enough to continue on the Pilgrimage. He’d already sacrificed so much to reach this point