Silicon Heartbeats

"The sky over the sprawl is never truly black, nor is it ever blue. It is a bruised shade of violet, choked by the perpetual haze of industrial runoff and the shimmering, artificial aurora of Viva Corp’s orbital satellites. High above, the corporate monoliths pierce the smog like silver needles, glowing with a sterile, predatory light that screams *Progress* to those below, even as it casts long, suffocating shadows. "Down in the gutters of the old districts, the ground is a mosaic of cracked concrete and discarded circuitry. Here, the air tastes of copper and wet ash. You can hear the constant, low-frequency thrum of the city—a mechanical heartbeat that never quite syncs with anything living. In the narrow alleys, the flickering neon signs of defunct shops cast jittery, colorful ghosts against the damp walls, illuminating the silhouettes of those who walk with a limp or a whir. "But there is something else; the outside. "A sprawling, open, desolate wasteland that most see as nothing more than the past, what was left behind for the sake of moving forward." "This is where the 'rejects' dwell."