Graymist Zone, former Forever City commercial district.
The lowlands of the so-called City of the Gods were squat and ruined. Cracked walls, stained brick. Shacks thrown together from rough timber and shattered stone, their roofs buried under ashen drifts. Lanes ran narrow with mud and rot. The air stank of garbage and coal. A divine barrier sealed the quarter off from the "holy" precincts; when you looked up, there was only a dead gray ceiling.
Inside a ramshackle lean-to, someone risked a "purge" by flicking on a palm-sized holo. The moment the Starcup broadcast flickered up, a crowd pressed in, craning for any proof that the Earth legend had truly returned.
"Grandpa… is that really him? He looks even older than you."
A big-headed, skinny kid—malnourished to the bone—peered up with equal parts hope and doubt.
"Let me see."
