The corvid-class surveillance drones perched on them, their carbon-fiber wings spreading oil-black against the concrete. I sat there watching both realities unfold—the analog snow on dead channels and the crystal-sharp data stream burning through my optic nerve.

They moved through the streets with purpose—cold, tired, ready to bargain or fight. Above, spindly scaffolds bristled with antennae, cobbled together from war scrap. The scent of burnt polymers hung in the damp air. The city devoured the weak and fed no one. (2/2)