The borders of Krowns hold the homes of thousands. Denizens of scrap and scorched dry jungle make their wage through the old and decayed. Within towering factories plumbing with noxious smoke of grim green, gray, and red the proud people smelt the rust of the old world into alloy, plastic, and composite. All holding the hopes for new corporate lungs able to transform the dense heavy smog that embrace their homes, into breathable air able to even satisfy their caloric intake. To the people of Krown's Baylor district, the war was a blessing, and the scrap their reward. It is the fuel for their heaters and the hopes of their parents and children. Manufactured by a long fought war and consumed by soon-to-die beasts of meat and metal.
A wall of dust, smoke, and fumes creates a dense dark perimeter around the city. Just before entering the city, a gap within the nearly black vapor creates an entryway for highway goers. Two tall, thin relays with the logo "RevTechnica" flank the highway and maintain a corridor for those entering the city. Racing through the highway riding above the dense Baylor district smoke were people venturing into the enormous city. Often coming from Phaetheon's Western resorts and powerplants. For business and pleasure, the people travel giddy and excited as if entering an attraction without lines. Columns of bright flashy advertisements wrap and climb around the city's corporate towers and grandiose apartment complexes. Commuters could see the advertisements climb over the smoke borders beside the highway. Within the dense void of sickly air just beside the long highway flashes bright neon lights. Shifting and fluctuating to form a rolling manifold of corporate motos, brands, and prices amongst the suffocating smog.
"Oh Jay! Did you see that one?!" Kiera screams suddenly. Her finger aggressively pressed against the window, tracing the flow of a flashy advertisement.
Slouched into his chair Jay watches traffic with a disgruntled stare. "What was it?" He replies apathetically.
"The NEWEST SHUARDSON GUN!" Kiera presses her face to the cold glass, attempting to see the ad one last time.
"I saw it already... Mag is in the glove box." Jay leans over and opens the glove box.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's a new 9mm. Nothing interesting."
"It's a 9?" Kiera says in anger. She grabs the tablet from the glove box and connects it to the car's net connection.
"Can I see?" Rich moves his head beside Kiera.
"You're right! Why do they keep doing that?"
"Maybe it's for people unable to afford other weapons." Rich says.
"No, because it can turn the ammunition into plasma bolts. That isn't cheap."
"Wealthy folk like mantle pieces. Much better if they can also become a light show able to burn a hole through someone that didn't like their liger skin drapes." Jay shrugs.
Kiera passes the tablet to Rich in frustration. "Uh! Who cares, I like mayhem in my guns. The bigger the better! One round burnin' a gapin' wound in nasty scavs."
"You've never fired a gun." Jay gives Kiera a stale look.
"Okay? Just because you don't pet dogs doesn't mean you can't like them."
Jay rolls his eyes. "I wish this traffic was faster. Worst part about Krowns."
"The traffic?" Rich asks while scrolling through the tablet's catalogs.
Jay nods in disagreement. "No, I hate the mindless people. Just look at any of them for more than five minutes. Nothing going on in their heads."
Rich and Kiera both look to the right and see an elderly man. Hands firmly on the wheel, his mouth gaping wide and gaze fixed to the stalled car ahead. Beside the old man was another elderly man wearing a similar outfit. His mouth closed but his eyes were almost just as fixed. His body is stiff and unmoving.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Sahara
Science FictionIt has been roughly 20 years since the end of a global conflict lasting well over a century known as the Chrome Conflict. The long, brutal war waged between the people on Earth versus a nefarious programmer named Darius Leads, whose consciousness ha...
