From the outskirts, Silver City looked less like a city and more like a fever dream made of consumerism-bathed neon. Bright casino-branded light beams shot skyward through the dust-choked air, columns of red, blue, and yellow guiding travelers to its doorstep.
Goldstar killed the ignition on her newfound dirt bike as she hid it behind the power ballast of a large holographic sign. WELCOME TO SILVER CITY, WHERE WINNERS ARE MADE. The letters pulsed, glitching slightly, like even the tech itself was drunk on the city's illusions. From here, the main tram station to the casino core was visible, its platform lit by a canopy of outdated holo-screens, all looping the same predictable F8 slogans.
She slipped into the crowd of chipped citizens shuffling toward the tram, moving with their eerie lack of urgency. Each face around her was blank, eyes glazed, their bodies operating like clockwork on someone else's time. Watching them, Goldstar felt a familiar chill: these weren't people in control of their lives, they were hollow programs executing functions, their every thought and personality siphoned away by Clarity. It was like staring at a field of puppets convinced they were free. Puppets being told they were here to have the time of their lives. She tucked her chin, making sure the glued-on fake F8 Clarity chip caught the light and eyes of passerbys just enough to look real. The adhesive peeled at her skin, a constant reminder of the risk she was taking, and of how close she was to falling into that same trap.
Inside the tram, every screen lit up in unison, and for the chipped, the broadcast also bloomed directly in their Minds-Eye as an augmented reality presentation. The projection flickered to life, until all rough edges were gone. MACEI's distinct holographic face and wavy red hair formed from voxels, smiling with artificial warmth.
"Welcome, valued citizens," it chimed. "As you journey into Silver City and our luxe Clarity Casinos, take a moment to reflect on the origins of Clarity and the boundless generosity of our founder, our father, Liander Xang."
Goldstar's stomach wrenched. She had seen pieces of this bullshit "lesson" before, always piped into public transport systems and public areas where the chipped couldn't escape. It was propaganda as entertainment, history rewritten as advertisement. She found it interesting that even though everyone was already enslaved by the chip, the corporation had to constantly broadcast their message at every possible opportunity. "That's the thing about control", she muttered, "They have to constantly bombard you with their message, if they didn't, perhaps they fear it wouldn't stick." The projection continued, replaying the spectacle of the long-ago F8 Convention, "F8 World" of 2048: Liander stepping onto the stage with boyish charm, unveiling Clarity as the salvation of humankind. His perfect grin. His promises of equality. His usage of popular concepts to drive his support and ultimate takeover. His calculated trap.
The tram hissed as it pulled to a stop, its doors opening with a slow sigh. Additional chipped filed aboard without question. Goldstar gripped the rail as the tram jerked forward. Around her, passengers soaked in the indoctrination silently, eyes reflecting the light of the hologram like mirrors. They smiled. She clenched the pole tighter, her jaw becoming sore as she ground her teeth. She wasn't just watching the effects of propaganda, she was staring at the machine that had stolen the world.
As the tram slowed near the first casino district, neon glare spilled in through the windows, the chipped pressed up to it looking outside in amazement. A massive sign consumed the skyline: STATUS WORLD – Silver City's Finest Experience. Goldstar looked onward, her determination hardening. The mission was on.
Back in the container, far from Silver City's lights, Kevin leaned back against the rattling walls, sending her a message on The BBS, "Gold, don't get lost in their luxury dream bullshit. We're counting on you."