Maroon rain terrifies the uninitiated in this futuristic hellscape of IRS and FBI and all the other 3 letter agencies of death and moral decay. The cyborgs hunt bunnies with lures of love, the sweet taste of carrots a distant memory. In the old city, remnants of humanity hawk their human wares. Behind me a lurid green ghost of electronic regret follows me everywhere, learning from my failures and noting them on a loudspeaker. Every time it calls one out, (numbered in the hundreds of thousands now) predatory basalt crows dive down and peck at me like philosophers of old.
Miniature Moon 