Get ready for a cinematic experience! In a Cyberpunk-style alternate version of Baldur's Gate, Astarion Ancunin, a top celebrity and aspiring politician, meets a popular influencer called Shadowheart in a fundraising party. But an unexpected crime s...
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The morning channels were a mix of commercials, corporate promotions, fake news items, and ads masquerading as opinion pieces. Astarion grimaced at the insufferable noise. "Eva, switch to something upbeat and less melancholy-inducing, will you?"
"As you command, Master Astarion," his Smarthome AI responded with the delightful female voice he'd picked for it. In a moment, a smooth synthwave track played across his luxurious apartment on the hundredth floor of Moonrise Towers. The twin high-rise buildings, overlooking Baldur City's central park, served mostly corpos and social elites—and he was among them, grinning with pride.
Astarion stared impatiently at the blinking light on his coffee maker. How long would that thing take?! A familiar ringtone played on his mobile, saving him from the dreadful thirty-second wait, and he answered without looking.
"Hey there, Garry. Just the guy I wanted to talk to."
"Glad to hear you're thinking about me, A-Man. Ready for the fundraising dinner tonight at my place?"
"Oh, I'm absolutely looking forward to it, buddy," Astarion said, each word a bigger lie. "But listen now, last night I had the weirdest girl over—"
Garry responded with a long whistle. "Hit me with the details, A-Man."
"She was wild. A green-eyed blonde, fit—just the way I like—and a great dresser. I mean, she wore a casual outfit, but one that still made her look gorgeous."
"Did you pick her up at the Nautiloid?"
"As always, buddy." Astarion pressed the brew button on the coffee maker, pouring himself a steaming mug of dark liquid. "But that's not the strange part. She kept talking about occult stuff."
"Occult?"
"You know, like magic symbols, freakish omens—that kind of shit. Said the chips people put in their brains are signs of the impending anomaly."
"Do you mean the apocalypse?"
Astarion grinned, baring his fangs. "Don't correct me, Garry, unless I asked you to."
"Sorry, A-Man. You're the bigshot wordsmith, after all."
"That I am." Astarion sipped from his perfectly brewed coffee, a drink fitting for one of Baldur City's top celebrities. "Anyway, she was a great fuck, but the way she looked at me... It felt like at any moment she'd draw a knife on me."
"If she did that, A-Man, you would've kicked her ass!"
More like ran for his life. "Of course, but it would still be a shame to hurt such a fine ass." They burst into a mutual dirty snicker. "Anyway, I need to get prepared for a live interview on Channel One."
"Another promotion for your campaign?"
"Can't get into city council without sucking up to the unwashed masses."
