The future came in devastation, but we bury it in the lights now, to forget. It was better once, they tell us not to say. Now, at the end of our century, we’ve rebuilt. The city neon glows brighter and casts a shadow deeper on the world.

This is just the beginning.

In the Pacific Megalopolis, a sickness is taking roots in the city’s guts. Dead angels are raising dark choirs to sooth our nightmares. They speak of a prophecy as old Patriots plan war. And Frode, a young sheep, can’t sleep. Even in dreams, there’s no rest no more, for a hungry God is waking up. Sing Hallelujah.

The screen is running static. Face your shadow.