Losca
Losca; a place where technology and information reign supreme. High-rises are forever seen breaking across the horizon line and the air is filled with the smells of existence, of sweat and concrete, of ozone and heavy pollutants, and of the life of the city. The streets are dirty and criminals lurk in the dark; every bit as desperate as those who attempt to make out an honest living. Even worse are the unsuspecting that wander into the illegal doings of the underground, most never leave. The city stifles and chokes the color and creativity, leaving nothing but grays and blacks with only a faint hope at redemption. It goes on forever covering everything anyone has ever known, At least in the lower districts.
Up in the middle districts the sounds come and loud. It’s a bombardment of political propaganda and advertisements dotting every surface till the din becomes a part of everyday existence. Holo Screens light up the night and a blue sky shows above the hustle and bustle of the people. It’s a blessing to have an artificial sky to cover what would otherwise be gray and brown. They never look up; they’re too engrossed in their own work to care. Office workers look down at the traffic of hover vehicles and teleporters, like so many ants below. Someone pops their gum down on the street as another calls a greeting--it goes unheard as they look up to the midday announcement. The newswoman calls out the names of criminals and follows with instructions on how to contact the enforcers if the wanted are found. She ends her report with a pleasant reminder to pick up the latest in !ntec innovations, the CrystComp., soon to be released to the public and being tested by the students of Sommerset High. The gum chewer sighs, to live in the upper district, and continues on their way.
Carefully cultivated and arranged gardens grace the elite with a close look at nature, dew drops slide down multicolored petals to land in a puddle reflecting the shining stars, free of any pollutants. The long pointed ears of elves brush as a couple strolls by: hand-in-hand whispering sweet nothings and talking of the wondrous magic of the show they saw in the afternoon. A firework is set off the sparks lighting up the sky trailing down to the ground harmlessly. A bored child plays with their toy, the stuffed animal’s button eyes shining with inset rubies. On the other side of town, laughter drifts on the breeze from nobles too drunk off of Iatra-Champagne to care, light framing their bodies from the party inside. Trinkets are traded, inventions are compared and those lucky few gifted with even an ounce of magic brag about their pure pedigree.
And so life continues, in just the way that !ntec and its owner intended.
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