High Heaven

My grandpa used to tell me that once upon a time the sky was bright blue, and you could see all the way to the horizon. From an airplane window you could look so far down that the plains stretched out to the very spot where the sky meets the land. I've never seen that, and it's hard for me to even imagine. In the Lower City, a lot of buildings haven't had windows in ages. There's just no point. Outside, you can't even see your own fingers at the end of your outstretched arm.

And up here, it's the same old Valley of Death we all know. Home sweet home for the high-society boys. The emperors of data centers. The keepers of tokens. And us regular folks? All we can do is hold this giant machine up on our shoulders until we drop dead.