non-romance

Heavy rain formed rivers and lakes in the neon-lit back streets of Adamantia City. A blue light flickered on and off, moths hitting themselves against it in the humid summer air. The great ziggurats of steel and glass that formed the Upper Echelons rose high above the slums, signaling a world of clean rooms and minimalist fashion reserved for the wealthy. Down in the Lower City, the black markets and criminals made their trade amongst the desperate and the downtrodden.

Nobody noticed the body in the alleyway. Sodden like a sack of wet potatoes, she lay amidst the garbage, hidden in the shadow of a dumpster. She sat partially upright, having dragged herself to a sitting position in order to try and stymie the blood flowing from the knifewound in her side. With her head slumped, and damp hair falling into her face, there was nothing to differentiate her from the many addicts that frequented the red light district. Indeed, the dark circles around her eyes told the world that she’d dabbled a little herself; often, it was a necessity to dull the pain caused by black market gender reassignment.

Enhancements had their price, and it was a high one. Rejected by the immune system, they could kill without a steady stream of expensive drugs to suppress the body’s natural immunity. Yet, the grim experience of living a half-life in an alien body was worse to most, trapped in a cage there was no escaping until death. But the surgery’s high price consigned the Enhanced to a