[@Traps][@BrightSteel] I'm busy with schoolwork this week. Sorry for being inactive! If I have time, I'll certainly post the exposition. Here's what I have so far. A thick blanket of smog enveloped the city, poisoning the lungs and hiding it from the eye. From a distance, this veil transformed the tall obelisks of skyscrapers into angels of death, with eyes like spotlights. jacket-wearing woman observed all of this, as she sat in the dusty street of the old, decrepit town. For a moment, she forgot her predicament, taking in the corrupt beauty of the landscape. But this took away from the seriousness of Kord’s dire situation, for she had been walking for hours, to no avail. She had come here to meet Aaron, but he must have given her bad directions--who in their right mind would meet here? All this for a novel! -- Something was kicking up the dust, which was too heavy to be lifted by the wind. A faint, but distinct figure became visible in the cloud of brown soot now airborne. It was a squat man, who hobbled along like a dwarf, sneezing with the humor of a comedian. Finally, it seemed, the man had arrived. How he, in his physical condition, managed to walk such great distances was anyone’s guess. The young woman rose from her spot, shining her flashlight into the air. “Mr. Aaron, I’m here.”, she shouted. “I’ve brought the money, but I need to see it first.” Mr. Aaron spoke quietly, and with the tenderness of a Nun. “Ah, there you are Cordelia. This one’s from 1931, and extremely well preserved.” He handed her an airtight bag, inside a small book, with three words on its cover: Brave New World. Kord’s eyes scanned the faded paperback with extreme interest, and--after paying the geriatric man--she turned away. “Kord” the man called. “I’ve heard the DPD is looking for a genetic engineer. You’re probably the prime candidate for the job. Best stay off the streets for a while.” -- Someone had kicked up the dust again, but this time with violent force. It vacated the buildings that it oppressed, and directed its wrath upon Kord. The now dust-blanketed engineer covered her head, trying to keep hidden in and amongst filthy rags on the side of the weathered street. To her dismay, the distinct throbbing sound of a police drone filled the air, and its spotlight penetrating the filthy air. The sleek cab landed with the quietness of an airplane, and the passenger’s face poked through the glass. Through an opening in the rubbish, she observed an armored, navy-blue droid exit the vehicle. Its thermal lenses seemed to glint a crimson color. A red light in the automaton's torso lit up as it spoke in English, and then Japanese. “You are under arrest.” the Cop droned, whisking out a small handgun, its laser pointer aimed at the dirt-caked “Do not struggle.” Kord tried to run, but she could not move her limbs. Her firearm was confiscated, and stored in a compartment in the officer’s “neck”. Soon she was in cuffs, and the officer’s firm grasp landed her in the back seat of the vehicle. It surprised even her how little resistance she had given. -- The back compartment was cushioned, so seatbelts were unnecessary. A single display on the wall parroted the familiar banter about the right to remain silent, and another one in between the seats asked for a fingerprint identification--or be administered an electric shock. The onboard flight computer wouldn’t stop spitting out superfluous information “15 degrees right, one point three six-second burst at half throttle, ten-second airbrake duration”. Through the small glass slit in the wall, the neon glow of the city flooded the compartment with light. The vehicle was approaching a cube-like building, about a kilometer cubed in volume. It had the appearance of porcelain, but it was actually graphene laced with titanium. A strip of pulsing lights on the roof indicated a landing strip.