The dark, moonless night sky holds its power over the city. It covers up every nook and cranny that escapes the hard industrial lights adorning the walkways with its cold, black nothingness.Rain falls in this darkness, as it always has; a reminder to the city's inhabitants that there is no hope for them. There is only work that will bestow them with credits, so they can feed and clothe their family and survive another day.
The society here is run on the principle that you are merely a slave to the system. To be able to work, you must enlist for an Interconnectivity Persona code, or IP, which entitles you to a slot in their system and a personalized hub to connect to the mainframe. Those who do are provided with lavish accommodations and are automatically assigned a job. Those who don’t are part of the Underground: a collective of many different walks of life that are either soon to convert to the business-side of society or are working out a way to level the playing field by taking down or hacking the system.
No one has hacked it yet, but there’s talk of technology that can. Everyone who has temporarily hacked into the system’s mainframe has been cut off within seconds, tracked down within an hour, and were never heard from again. Faint whispers and murmurs speak of a hacker able to crack the code and reclaim control over the world. It just so happens that these prophecies are about to come true.
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