Singularity City: Electronic Sleep.
Singularity City, Formerly Chicago.
The biggest experiment in human history. The grandest stage for science to ever take place. And yet, this vibrant, super advanced tower of Babylon was just as dirty just as ruthless as any other city. The crime was there, the exploitation and the greed. 7 levels tall. 7 urban ecosystems piled onto each other..
Commonly known as the Pit, the lowest level holds the most crime, It's a mixture of shack towns, old town architechtur and scrap piles. It is also here the majority of poor Chinese immigrant workers find themselves, and where the Triads hold the most sway. It is here Riggers tend to get most their parts from as human chop chop shops salvage the different prosthetic and implants from the unfortunate dead aswell as pilfering usefull tech and scraps the trash that is dumped from above. Giant Recycling plants and scrap yards have been built int the very structure of the city and the only thing keeping the citizens below from choking on fumes is the state of the art ventilation systems that lead any fumes into Oxgen plants on the mid levels.
The two levels above it are pleasure and nightlife districts of the city. It should be noted that the lack of natural light has turned it into something of a eternal city of the night. With many seedy bars, small time casinos and other place of debauchery the place see a staggering amount of illegal as well as legal commerce for what really is the poor neighborhood.
The Mid levels of four and five is something of a buffer zone. Its far more hospitable then the pit. The crime here is nowhere as bad and it has everything from greenery and parks to sports centers and proper clinics. Of course, it doesn't hold the type of grandeur that the top level holds. But this is the place where most people make their living and where they live in general. The SCPD have their HQ set up in the middle of this. The Mid levels still have poorer areas and projects where those fortunate to escape the pit lives. Its here the King Krew and american street gangs hold the most power.
The Upperlevels, now this is where you want to live. All the big companies with their massive scrapers and their jagged skylines, this is where they play god. The streets are clean, every neighborhood is well above the general GNP and pollution seems fairly non existent. Many of the luxury shops and resturants can be found her as well.
Lower Levels, Second Level, 122 Street East. The Pulp Nigh Club. 07:00
“You are sure this is legit, old man?” The teen looked ecstatic, no doubt high off his mind. His neatly pressed suit seemed to denot that he was in fact on foreign soil. A rich kid, in the center of one of the roughest neigborhods on the second layer. Kid had best be on his guard at all time. Currently, hee was clutching a small chip with a disk on it. A stimulus chip, just jack it into the brain and your be experiencing a pleusure far beyond that of any sexual escapade. Or that's what their slogan was any way. He grinned at the older, black woman who had handed it over to him.
“One hundred percent kiddo. All our girls mixed into one mindblowing expeience. Now scram before the cops catch you with it.” The man nodded at her words and left, still looking jittery and jumpy. The old woman only got to take 2 steps before a shot rung out. The young man stared at her as she fell to her knees. People around him took cover as he was holding a small gun, smoke bellowing out from the pipe.
“Dont mess with the 22's hardware you bitch!” And then he was gone.
Mid Levels, Second Level, 102 Street East. Vegas Bar. 09:00
The air inside the bar had a rustic, smokey feel to it. Everything inside the rather small establishment was legit wood. From the barstools to the tables and the bar itself. On the wall hung different pictures of people Vegas liked. His three exwives that he were fond off, despite them all having asked him to sit and rot in different parts of hell. A picture of his old hero; Clint Eastwood. On the bar disk was a bottle of brandy, in front of him a glass filled with said brandy. He was staring intently at the TV along some of his patrons. Another shooting. This time the victim was a middle aged afro american woman who apparently had connections to Kings Krew. The bullet had been, according to the reporters; armor piercing rounds.
“Apperently, the woman had been wearing a small protective vest underneath her baggy clothing. It had failed to protect her from what is believed to have been a brain jacked, suburban teenager. Most likely the perpetrators are affiliated with criminal hacker and rigger collective known as 22. Over to you Tom.”
Vegas turned the TV back to the local sports event, two teams that he didn't care about gruffed and tackled one another while trying to grab a ball. It wasn't real football as far as the Colombian was concerned. Instead he tended to his business as always. Waiting for this latest development to bring unpleasant customers to his bar. No doubt they'd come here, either to complain, demand information or to drown their sorrows. He just hoped that Russian lady would come in. He liked a pretty woman to look at as he explained to he colleges that he had a nothing to do with whatever thing had their jimmies rustled.