The wall-sized monitor flickered to life. It showed a small, dilapidated storefront wedged between two gleaming mega-malls. It shouldn't have been there. In a city where rent was calculated by the micro-second, a dilapidated shop was a mathematical impossibility.
The air in Sector 7 smelled different. It smelled like ozone and frying oil, not the sterile lavender scent pumped into the Corporate District. Elias walked past the mega-malls, his personal security drones hovering discreetly behind him. capitalism lab
"It’s worthless," he whispered.