It was difficult to think under the crushing power that drew him ever upwards. He had little recollection of an existence before he'd been lifted from the murk and muck below him, and therefore very little sense of self. As his hand dangled at his side, touching only trailing wires and dripping oil, he had a certain notion that he was somehow lacking, that there was more to him than that. He could feel himself being drawn inside-out by the tremendous force above him. As he stared out at the undulating waves of rust and rot, he was overcome by one sensation only, an overwhelming urge that compelled him, that somehow acted on him stronger than the fatal force lurking above his altered perception. He turned to his giant metal captor, the crane he dangled from, and bellowed over the screeches of the seagulls and the crush of the metal compactor, "So do you live around here, or what's the deal?"