A beam of light hit his face, he desperately hoped it was the sun, though it was artificial.

A sound he heard in the far distance, lots of sounds, one louder than the other, all floating around him, trapping him in an inescapable prison. Those weren’t birds, they were cars.

The smell of gas and rot crept through the streets of the giant Monopol, creeping inside everyone in its path. Not like the lavender he once so loved.

All he sees is gray and gray and brown and gray and red. No green, no plants giving them air for free, cause that would have made living affordable. No, air was a resource, like any other one. A resource you had to pay for in the endless world of capitalism.