This mountain of concrete squalor brings back bad memories. I used to live in a dump like this when I was a teen running jobs for Kosuke. Think of an apartment block and then imagine everything that could go wrong: that’s a goshitel. They became popular during the boom when floods of people arrived in Sonaya looking for work. Now they’re homes for the lower working class, the forgotten souls who survive on scraps. Half the population of Sonaya, then.
Twenty floors, sixteen rooms on each, though calling them ‘rooms’ might be a stretch—‘cells’ would be more accurate. Six foot square cubicles with nothing but crumbling walls, rotting floorboards, and maybe a tiny splintered window for the lucky ones. Corridors so narrow you can’t even open your door if the one opposite beat you to it. A few
