Hotlanta was finally an appropriate name, Apollo thought, swinging his dangling feet over a charred Honda Civic that he’d repurposed as a throne. The street was empty, devoid of traffic and life. Apollo sat calmly as giant flames snaked around buildings, producing spires of smoke that choked the sky, Towers of Babel spreading the new universal language of rebirth and revolution.
He’d really burned it all down. All the bullshit. All the corporatism. All the opportunism. All the wires and wiretaps. Welcome to Atlanta.
Zed was a fool to choose college over this, a true future, one with possibilities that they could imagine and build rather than apply for, drive to, tweet about, smoke away. How could she have left him so decisively, so easily? Her, Kai, Sol. They’d all bonded over the past m
