The air shimmered with an almost imperceptible heat haze, a byproduct of the omnipresent energy conduits that laced the cityscape like veins of molten gold. Neo-London sprawled before Anya, a breathtaking panorama of impossible architecture and breathtaking technological marvels. Towers of polished chrome and shimmering glass pierced the perpetually twilight sky, their surfaces shifting with holographic advertisements that whispered promises of enhancement and perfection. Flying vehicles, sleek and silent, zipped between the buildings, a constant hum of advanced technology weaving through the air. This was Elysium, or so the propaganda proclaimed.

For Anya, however, Elysium felt more like a gilded cage. From her vantage point on the elevated walkway that snaked through the lower levels of the city, the opulence and effortless grace of the enhanced citizens felt alien, a world she could only observe from a distance. Her own world was a cramped, dimly lit apartment in the outer city, a stark contrast to the gleaming towers that dominated the skyline. The air here was thick with the smell of industry and desperation, a far cry from the sterile, purified atmosphere of the upper levels.