The city is called Erevos, a sprawling labyrinth of steel and neon where the sky is never truly dark. The corporate towers rise like jagged teeth, their glass facades pulsing with advertisements that promise sensation, intimacy, and escape. At street level, the air is thick with chemical haze from the sensory dens—clubs where people plug into shared hallucinations, trading their pain for manufactured pleasure. The hum of machinery never stops; drones skim the skyline, and the monorail snakes through the city like a glowing artery, carrying workers to their shifts in biotech labs and data mines.