The sun beat down upon the pavement. Steam was rising from the metallic pipes of the cities sewer system. The skyscrapers tops were obscured by a thick smog created by the constant pumping of smoke into the air by the highly productive industrial sectors of the city. Buses and trams wizzed around the city as pedestrians ran between them. More then a few times one would mistime their jump, and become splattered all over the tracks. A stark reminder of how this once utopian society the leaders always spoke of became terrifying to exist in.
Paddy Lynch had become desencitised to the madness of the poor, risking their lives to move around the city. He. like most people, just ignored what was happening around them, and went around their buisness as usual. Paddy staired out the dirty ill maintained tram window, watching the airships above slip through the clouds of smog. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sky other then in photos.
Paddy and his mother had immigrated to New York from Ireland, after his brother was stillborn and his father commited suicide. The stress of the famine and the loss of his son had driven him over the edge.
