"What can I possibly do now?" she whispered to the empty air, her voice trembling in the freezing rain.
The distorted, synthetic voice of Giska had faded away, swallowed by the ambient hum of the Neo-Soma lower sectors. Rea stood perfectly still in the derelict park. The rusted metal bench beneath her hands felt like ice. She looked up at the towering, glowing monolith of the Neo-Soma Tower piercing the heavily polluted clouds. Her designer coat, a garment that cost more than a lower-tier citizen earned in a lifetime, was completely saturated. The heavy fabric clung to her shivering frame, pulling her down into the mud.
Panic, raw and unfiltered, began to claw at her chest. The grand illusions of wealth, power, and untouchable status had been stripped away in a matter of hours. She was
