Outside the tall Pod Hive building, Max stood on the street curb and waited for the hovercab to arrive. A filtration mask covered his face. The many industrial plants of the city, most owned or controlled by Gawa Industries, continuously pumped out pollution. Traces of the heavy gasses floated down and covered the lower parts of the city in a layer of noxious air. To simply breathe without a mask was to risk illness and disease.

Despite the thick smog, the streets were still filled with people. They sauntered down the sidewalks, grouped together in alcoves and narrow alleyways. Their clothes were often ragged and stained, and some didn’t even bother to wear a mask. Their hacking coughs only added to the overwhelming cacophony of the city. The loudspeakers blaring music or advertisements, the yelling, the whiz of hovercars overhead and squeal of tires over the street, and—behind it all—the deep, ever-present hum of factories and nameless machinery.

Welcome to the Bottoms of Gray City.

The grimy, sunken faces of all these people betrayed their relatively young ages. The reality was, for most who lived down here, an early death was a fact of life. Those of the Middles always lived past 100. Those in the Heavens, well… they were so long-lived they could almost be considered a different species. 200 years or more was completely ordinary.

Advanced healthcare extended the lifespans of those in the upper strata of society, but those of the Bottoms rarely had access to it. Between the hazardous air, the acid rain, the overcrowding and poor health services, it was a miracle for anyone of the Bottoms to live past 50. Such was the way of the world. You just tried to survived as well as you could.

Soon, a shiny Hovercab descended from the sky and touched down on the sidewalk. Max got in and sat down, while the door hissed shut behind him.

“Where to?” asked the cab’s AI. It’s voice was crisp and polite.

“Polar-Tech.”

“I estimate ten minutes. Please sit back and enjoy the ride!”

With that, the craft powered up and lifted into the air. Max took off his mask. Hovercabs were always outfitted with decent filtration systems, and they purified the air much better than his mask could. Max took a deep breath of the cool, sterile air.

Max allowed himself this moment of respite, when there was nothing for him to do. No work, nothing he could do to go faster. This ten-minute ride belonged to him completely. A safe zone. Sometimes he felt like these short cab rides provided the only time he could truly relax. If only he could shut off his mind...

The interior of the Hovercab was quite roomy, with two rows of seats facing each other, leaving the middle open. The entire dome of the craft was made of glass, as well as most of the doors to either side. What little natural light filtered through the fog and clouds filled the cab, adding to the sense of spaciousness. As the cab rose in height, this light only got brighter.

Max leaned back in the padded seat, and, feeling his stomach rumble once more, found himself wishing that he'd taken the extra minute or two to pickup a snack from the cafeteria. Too bad. Hovercabs always carried snacks and refreshments in the front, but they were expensive. Even so, Max considered it... but in the end, his frugality won out. He'd rather not have to go hungry later just for a small container of overpriced candied nuts.

Truthfully, Max wouldn’t have minded walking to Polar-Tech and saving money on the cab fare, but aside from his weariness, it was far too dangerous. His relatively clean jeans and jacket would have stood out like a neon sign on the streets, and standing out in the Bottoms was an invitation for trouble. Various gangs ruled the streets below, and when they weren’t fighting over territory, doing deals, or extorting shop owners for protection money, they had little more to do than harass anyone passing by.

With the boot of the upper classes upon their backs—preventing them from better jobs, better housing, and better lives—those who joined gangs took to feeling powerful by exerting control over those even worse off than themselves. Drugs and crime formed the beating heart of the Bottoms, and it spread its veins along nearly every street of Gray City.

The hovercab eventually slowed down, descending and coming to rest in front a giant, pearl-white building. Somehow, even the grime that layered most other constructions this low didn’t seem to affect it. In and of itself, that wasn't surprising. All corporations put quite a lot of effort and money into keeping up appearances for appearances sake. Several guards with heavy rifles mulled about in front of the entryway, stationed there to discourage loiterers and other... undesirables.

“We’ve reached your destination!” said the AI. “Before exiting the vehicle, please remember to put on a filtration mask. Air at this altitude can be hazardous to your health. Thank you for choosing Hovercab!”

“Thanks,” Max mumbled through his mask.

He stepped out of the cab onto the curb. In front of him rose a set of concrete steps, leading to a row of spotless sliding glass doors. Max and everything nearby was bathed in an icy-blue light, radiating from a large neon sign that read:

P O L A R - T E C H

As Max mounted the steps, he was fully aware of the guards and unseen cameras analyzing his face, watching his every move with cold calculation. The closer he got, the more he noticed the guards angling towards him, their fingers likely twitching near the safeties on their fully-loaded automatic rifles. Max slowed to a deliberate pace, keeping his arms down, his palms relaxed and open. No sudden moves, he reminded himself. Corporate militias were infamous for their itchy triggers. A Bottoms citizen getting riddled with bullets just for reaching for their tablet was an all-too-common story. If moving a little slower helped Max avoid a few holes blasted in his chest and gut, well...

Max was more than happy to forget about the inconvenience.