Autumn, Year Two of Truth.
The broad streets were paved with smooth gray cement. Along both sides, metal streetlights stood every fifty meters.
At six o'clock in the morning, the streetlights turned off right on time.
Old Hans, wearing dark blue denim overalls, walked briskly toward the government affairs hall in the city center. A brass badge was pinned to his chest—proof that he had exceeded his forging quotas for three consecutive months—polished so well it gleamed in the sunlight.
There were no guards at the government affairs hall; only two "Spider Slayer" Golems stood quietly on standby at either side of the entrance. Inside, the hall was spacious and brightly lit, with hundreds of commoners lining up in orderly fashion.
Hans walked up to a self-service terminal and raised his left wrist.
"Identity confirmed. Level 2 Forging Worker, Hans. Current Contribution Points: 1,420."
