Year 2077, May 31st // Deep Within The Slums, Quadrant II
The smell of burning flesh still lingered in the air as you walked past the charred remains, now just a pile of blackened bones and ashes. You avert your eyes. Not much to be done about this one. They were probably stripped naked before being executed, too: nothing to loot, even if you did feel like rooting around.
“Funny thing,” someone says to you as you pass by. You hadn’t noticed them there, sitting on an overturned crate, drunk probably. A lean man with a scruffy beard, wearing a patchwork coat that might have been colorful once. “They weren’t even a cannibal, pretty sure. They was just drunk and joking around about it. Don’t matter when a mob’s got an idea in its head, y’know. Seriously, you’re better off telling people you’re into fucking little kids. You might get beaten to a pulp then, but not doused in gas and burned to death.”
He smirks, but there’s no humor in it. His eyes, sharp and bright, lock onto yours. “You wanna know why? You ever stopped to think about this shit, bae?” Ah, here it comes. This guy’s an armchair philosopher with something to get off his chest.
“Back in the day you could joke about it all you wanted, because it wasn’t real. The odd serial killer and throwback tribe in whatever weird part of the world. That was it. But now? Shit is real. Your daughter, your sis, your mommy, fucking girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever – one day you could wake up and find they’ve been fucking murdered and eaten. Murdered to be eaten.
“That’s why people are shit scared, head. That’s why people’s getting burned to death over a joke. Cause this shit is close to home. I’m telling ya’, that’s how it is.”
Armchair philosopher? Maybe. But you reckon he’s got a point. It’s not even like there’s a real food shortage around here. You exchange a little more local gossip before you move on...
Life in Quadrant II, Node 04, was a strange blend of high-tech marvels and primal fears. The towering structures, interconnected with neon-lit sky bridges, buzzed with the hum of autonomous drones and the chatter of augmented reality interfaces. Yet beneath the glitz and technological veneer, ancient terrors simmered.
You continue down the crowded streets, where vendors peddle everything from synthesized foods to black market bioware. The AI announcements blare from every corner, reminding citizens of curfews and safety protocols. Despite the advanced society, fear was an undercurrent, lurking in every shadow.
As you make your way to your usual haunt, the Nexus Bar, you can’t shake the words of the philosopher from your mind. The bar, a dimly lit refuge for the weary and the wary, is a stark contrast to the neon chaos outside. You find a seat at the counter, ordering a drink from the automated bartender.
“Rough day?” a voice beside you asks. You turn to see Mila, a regular at the Nexus. She’s a tech scavenger, always looking for the next big score in the forgotten corners of the quadrant.
“Just saw the aftermath of another mob execution,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink.
“Let me guess, cannibal accusations?” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s always that these days. People are scared, and when people are scared, they do stupid things.”
You nod, remembering the philosopher’s words. “Had a guy tell me it’s because cannibalism is too close to home now. It’s not just some far-off horror; it’s real.”
Mila sighs. “He’s not wrong. I’ve seen things in the lower sectors, things that would turn your stomach. Desperation makes monsters of us all.”
The conversation with Mila stays with you as you leave the Nexus Bar. The city feels different now, every corner hiding a potential threat. You decide to take a longer route home, avoiding the main streets and their ever-watchful surveillance systems.
You wander through the labyrinthine alleys of Node 04, where the neon lights barely penetrate the darkness. Here, the technology is older, more rundown, a stark reminder that progress often leaves many behind. It’s in these shadows that you find the philosopher again, sitting by a makeshift fire, surrounded by a group of listeners.
He’s in the middle of another preach. "...and that’s why, my friends, we can’t count on the system to bail us out. They build their towers, they fly their drones, but down here? Down here, it’s all about survival of the fittest."
One of his listeners, a young woman with a scar running down her cheek, Ava asks, “But what can we do? We’re just trying to get by.”
The philosopher leans forward, his eyes intense. “You gotta stick together. Trust is hard to come by, but it’s the only thing that’ll keep you breathing. The minute we turn on each other, we’re no better than the monsters they’re scared of.”
You decide to approach, intrigued by his insights. “You make it sound so simple, but trust is hard to come by these days.”
He looks up, recognizing you from earlier. "Ah, the passerby’s back. Trust ain’t easy, no. But what choice we got? We either figure out how to live together, or we end up like that poor soul back there, burned by fear and ignorance."
Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself returning to the philosopher’s gatherings more often. His words resonate, offering a sense of understanding in a world that feels increasingly fragmented. You learn his name is Jonas, a former historian turned street preacher after losing his family to a cannibal raid.
One evening, after a particularly heated discussion about the future of Quadrant II, you find yourself alone with Jonas. “Do you really believe we can change things?” you ask, skepticism lacing your words.
Jonas looks at you, his expression softer than usual. "Change takes time, but it starts with knowing what's what. Folks need to see the humanity in each other, past all the fear."
“But how? Fear is such a powerful motivator.”
"By being examples. By not giving in to the hysteria. We teach, we look out for each other, we show kindness even when it ain’t deserved."
As you leave that night, you feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps there is a way to break the cycle of fear and violence that grips your quadrant.
Your newfound optimism is put to the test sooner than you expect. A week later, another mob forms, spurred on by rumors of a hidden cannibal enclave in the lower sectors. You and a few others from Jonas’s group decide to intervene.
You arrive at the scene to find chaos. A young man is being dragged from his home, accused of harboring cannibals. The mob is frenzied, their faces twisted with fear and anger.
Jonas steps forward, raising his hands. “What’s your problem?!”
The mob hesitates, but their leader, a burly man with a makeshift club, sneers. “Stay out of this, Jonas. This scum needs to be dealt with.”
"You ain't got no proof!" Jonas shouts back. "We gonna torch everyone 'cause we think they might be guilty? Where does it stop?"
The crowd murmurs, uncertain. The leader looks around, sensing his control slipping. “If you don't move, don't blame for assuming your also a cannibal.”
Before you can react, the leader swings his club at Jonas. The blow lands with a sickening thud, and Jonas crumples to the ground. The mob surges forward, but you and the others form a protective circle around Jonas, holding them back.
“We need to get him out of here!” Ava yells, and together, you manage to carry Jonas away from the fray.
Jonas’s injuries are severe, blood seeping from the blunt trauma of the bat to his head. You find refuge in an abandoned building, tending to him as best you can. The city outside continues its restless hum, oblivious to the small act of defiance that just took place.
Jonas regains consciousness, his voice weak but determined. “Did we stop them?”
"No.." you solemnly replied
Jonas's voice is weak but steady. “These slums are where the system’s failures are most evident. If we can make a difference here-”
You nod, taking in the desolate environment. “The people here have suffered enough. It’s time to make sure no one else has to endure this.”
Jonas looks at you, his strength fading. “I thought i could make difference, but- this is my limit huh, but you. you can still fight. but not now."
"there's someone who can help us. Go to Joez Cafe in Quadrant VI. Look for Mira. She knows her way around...”
You commit the name and place to memory. “Mira at Joez Cafe, Quadrant VI. Got it.”
Jonas grasps your hand one last time, his grip weak but determined. “Trust her. She’s our best shot..”
A moment of silence..
another soul snuffed from the slums. This is the sense of dread you're all too familiar with. People die every day here; it's become normal. but-
"Th-There coming, we need to move." Ava interrupted your train of thought, You turn to face her, she's holding up. eyes swelling but she retains composure.
You left, leaving Jonas's lifeless body inside the rundown building. You ran, ran as far as your feet could carry you, with the heavens above perfectly reflecting the turmoil you've been feeling deep inside.
"It's raining..."
ns 15.158.61.5da2
