“Alright, baby, back to the story.”
Phoenix gently landed Z-P-N-E-S 2.0 at the spaceport,
inside a premium hangar pre-booked by Quince™
the kind with direct access to Prime Metro™.The moment the ship touched the platform,
dozens of robotic modules rolled in from every direction:
washing it with shampoo,
polishing the hull,
plugging it into fast charge,
scanning it across 42 cleanliness parameters,
all at once,
like a swarm of corporate vacuum cleaners throwing an orgy.”
Massive monorail lines wrapped the entire megacity.
Anti-grav trains shot through energy tunnels
glowing in rings
like progress diagrams they show kids
in pre-startup school.
The trains were fully automated,
running strictly on schedules synced to atomic clocks.
Acceptable delay:
± 3 nanoseconds.If you’re late
that’s your fault, not the train.
On the platform: corporate nightmare in full form.
The moment Blindy and Zeros stepped out,
they saw it instantly:
EVERYONE.
NO.
EXCEPTIONS.Every single one of them in suits:
- humans,
- droids,
- cyborgs,
- aliens of every shape and size,
- babies in tiny suits,
- even dogs wearing ties.
Our duo looked…
like yellow snow in winter.
And probably smelled worse.
People glanced at them
like they just saw the word “inefficiency”
inside a KPI report.
The train arrived.
Doors opened.
Above the entrance, a timer lit up:
30,000,000,000 nanoseconds.And started ticking down fast.
Below it, a line scrolled:
"At 000 doors will close.
PRIME METROPOLITAN™ is not responsible for injuries."Blindy, fully panicking,
shoved everyone the hell aside and jumped in.
When Zeros approached,
people silently stepped away
in perfect sync,
like temple doors opening
for a god of death.
That’s how they ended up in the first carriage.
Doors slammed shut.
The train shot forward
at FOUR MACH
like it had a bonus for punctuality.
Inside, the carriage split automatically into two halves.
On the left: Zeros and Blindy, standing like two physical embodiments of disorder.
On the right: 127 passengers, compressed into a corner, stepping on each other’s feet just to stay as far away as possible, like they were avoiding a brand new form of space cholera.
Ads flooded everything:
- holograms flashing random slogans,
- banners crawling across the ceiling,
- tiny projectors trying to stare straight into your soul
and sell you a subscription to some bullshit.
But Blindy didn’t care.
He pressed his face to the glass
and stared outside.
The city stretched endlessly:
sterile streets,
smooth surfaces,
shine,
order,
geometry
everything too clean,
too perfect.
To him, it felt alien.
Too correct.
Even the business district in Mülldeponie,
with all its skyscrapers and corporate monsters,
looked next to Prime Inc…
like a village where electricity gets turned on
only during holidays.
The train suddenly slowed.
A synthetic voice, friendly to the point of aggression, announced:
“NEXT STATION—QUINCE STATION.
Don’t forget to order your Prime Metro Card™,
which gives you a 30% discount on all transportation,
including annual head massage.
Order online—drone delivery in 90 seconds.”
The doors opened
and the passengers inside
flowed to the opposite side of the carriage
like liquid,
as if an invisible barrier had been holding them back
and suddenly disappeared.
Blindy and Zeros stepped out.
And then—
she appeared in front of them.
QUINCE TOWER—“an unfinished Rubik’s cube of the corporate universe”
The tower rose a full mile into the sky.
And it looked like the architect had been given:
an unlimited budget,
a lungful of helium-4 crystals,
and a notebook with not a single straight line in it.
The building was made of massive glass and metal blocks,
pushed out, twisted, stacked on top of each other
like it wasn’t designed by a human,
but by a CAD error generator.
Every level shifted at its own angle
a little sideways,
a little upward,
a little into nowhere.
The tower’s final design review was done through Character.AI.
And since AI approves everything,
it said:
"Let it be, wanderer…
if it doesn't fall, then it was meant to stand."Between the blocks hung greenish gardens
not because anyone here loved nature,
but because marketing decided it could be sold
as innovation.
Every surface gleamed,
reflecting the sky, the city, the ads,
and its own corporate arrogance.
Quince Tower was a monster
trying to look elegant.
And it almost worked.
When they stepped into the lobby,
they were greeted by dead-faced receptionists
real humans would’ve quit long ago,
but these stood there
like an eternal corporate curse.
A smiling feminine android turned her head.
The mask stretched so tight
it looked ready to split at the seams.
“Welcome. Do you have an appointment?”
Blindy froze.
For a couple seconds, his brain got stuck somewhere
between fear and fantasy,
but eventually dragged his thoughts
from below the belt back into his head and muttered:
“Y-yeah—yeah, we got—uh—
M-Madeline—Crook—yeah—yeah, that one!”
The android tried to smile even wider,
but the mechanics of her face had already hit their limit.
“Please proceed. Elevator M.
She is expecting you.”
There were six elevators.
The crowd looked like the entire office hell
had been dumped here for a patience stress test.
Options:
A) wait for hours,
B) let Zeros "clear the line," which would definitely turn into a disgusting, unnecessary, but expected massacre.Zeros sighed,
grabbed Blindy by the collar
and dragged him toward the stairs
like trash that needed taking out.
“We’re walking. Fuck the elevator.
Your ass got big. Burn some fat.”
Blindy exploded instantly:
“Are you outta your—are you serious right now?!
This thing’s a MILE tall—A MILE!
I’m gonna die—I’m actually gonna die—
you hear me?!
What the hell is WRONG with you?!
You tryna kill me or what?!”
But Zeros didn’t give a shit about biology
or mortality statistics.
He just opened the stairwell door
and stepped inside.
Blindy, whether he liked it or not,
ended up right behind him.
And the two of them slowly began climbing
up the stairs,
into a building that mocked
the very idea of a horizon.