An impenetrable blanket of thick cloud and filthy smog hides the beauty of the clear, star lit sky from citizens down on the ground. Mere mortals fighting for scraps, surviving, existing, not living. You wouldn’t call this living. The official state channel blares out toneless, monotonous, relentless sounds from battered speakers that hang off every lamp post. On the hour, every hour, a booming voice hammers out the latest statements from the Office of the High Chancellor, praising the endless successes of the regime, detailing the severe punishments inflicted on those unfortunate souls who dared to have opposed it.For months now, the Chancellor’s troops have been on high alert on the Citadel’s dirty, cramped streets. People go missing in the night, husbands, wives, mothers and fathers snatched from the sidewalks,

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