Filin stood at the edge of the bustling street, his gaze sweeping across Elysium, a city that was a monument to wealth. A glittering facade of glass and light, he thought, but beneath the surface, I can feel a current of unease. Buildings clawed at the sky, crystalline mountains adorned with screens, and innovative designs. Some spiraled towards the heavens, while others flaunted their purpose in bold displays. The air hung heavy, a blend of manufactured blooms and the sting of exhaust, a stark contrast to the city's gleaming exterior. A low thrum of activity, a mix of distant music and the rush of unseen vehicles, filled the air, yet the air quality was surprisingly clean, a testament to the city's advanced filtration systems.
The roads and walkways, impeccably maintained, spoke of a different kind of power. Wide avenues accommodated cyclists and pedestrians, their paths distinct and well-defined. Overhead, sleek trains, defying gravity, zipped between the towering structures, a scene that seemed plucked from a dream.
The streets teemed with a kaleidoscope of faces. Some wore tailored suits, their movements sharp, while others sported casual luxury, EMP insignia. Wealth isn't just displayed here, he realized, it's flaunted. A sudden thought struck him. Where are all the children? I haven't seen anyone who looks younger than sixteen.
"Luka," Filin murmured, "I've been watching the crowds, and it's strange. I haven't seen a single person who looks under sixteen. Is that normal here?"
Luka chuckled, a dry sound. "Ah, you noticed that, did you? No, it's not normal in most places, but it is here. Their parents, the wealthy ones, they don't let their kids out. Too dangerous, too many distractions, too much... exposure. They're either in private, highly secured academies, or being tutored at home. The city's not really built for unsupervised youth."
Suddenly, a fleet of super and hypercars surged onto the road, their engines roaring as they crossed at high speed. They didn't bother with brakes on the turns; instead, they drifted effortlessly, tires screeching against the asphalt. A voice rang out from the crowd, filled with exhilaration: "Hey! Hahahaha! Look at these kids driving low-level luxury cars! They're in Bugattis and Koenigseggs! No one here has an EMP branded car—only the president has one, I think."
In this city, driving fast isn't a crime, Filin mused, it's a privilege reserved for those deemed worthy. As long as they don't harm others, speed is celebrated. Between the wide roads, railway tracks snaked through, adding to the urban tapestry. The scene was a blend of luxury and thrill, a playground for the affluent.
As the scene unfolded, large screens adorning the buildings came to life, showcasing a strikingly handsome man with sleek black hair. He appeared on screen 60% of the time, effortlessly promoting a range of luxurious items—watches that gleamed like stars, stylish clothes that whispered elegance, cutting-edge tech gadgets, and high-performance cars that roared with power.
Yet, there's a common thread woven through each advertisement, Filin observed. The EMP diamond logo. It symbolizes not just luxury, but a standard of perfection that resonates throughout the city. The logo is a mark of distinction, a badge of honor that signifies the pinnacle of wealth and status. In this world, to own anything adorned with the EMP logo is to claim a piece of the elite.
As the bustling city continued to pulse with life, the roads became a chaotic tapestry of movement. Cars zipped past, crossing lines with little regard for the rules, their engines roaring like wild beasts. Amidst this frenzy, a crowd of people gathered at the traffic signals, their expressions a mix of impatience and anticipation. They waited, eyes fixed on the lights, each moment stretching as they hoped for the green signal to grant them passage.
The air was thick with the sounds of honking horns and the distant chatter of pedestrians, creating a symphony of urban life. It was a brief pause in the relentless pace of the city, a moment where everyone shared the same goal: to cross safely and continue their journey.
In the midst of the bustling crowd, a handsome figure caught the eye. A shocked gasp erupted from behind, echoing through the air.
A tone of arrogance filled the air. "Yes, it's him. Can't you see with your own eyes?"
"Do you even have eyes?" came the sarcastic reply.
"What's going on with these people?" Filin muttered, turning to Luka, a sense of confusion in his voice. "Luka, Luka, can you tell me why they're getting angry for no reason?"
"Filin, please stop whispering in my ear. I don't like that," Luka responded, his voice laced with annoyance.
"I'm not talking to you anymore," Filin declared, a note of finality in his tone.
"Luka, sorry. I'm just curious, because I came from a different country, you know? What's going on in Aurelia, especially in this Elysium city?"
"Oh, I see. Well, you know, these people are always like this. Don't worry about it."
"Okay, I won't talk about it anymore. Accept my apology, please, please."
"Filin, what kind of work are you going to do? I don't have the ability to take care of you for a lifetime. My girlfriend is coming after this weekend, so find a place and move out."
Filin thought, "I can do this. I don't want to be a problem for my friend. Today, I'm going to see if I can find work. I think I can ask for help from my cousin and her parents. Her father is the president of Aurelia."
"My parents gave me her contact."
The signal changed. The crowd surged forward, their expensive shoes echoing on the pavement, a rhythmic tap-tap-tap marking their passage.
The man draped in EMP attire began to move, as if he were on a meticulously choreographed set, his every step precise.
Suddenly, a sharp thump echoed through the air. A man, appearing to be around 45 years old, collided with Asad.
All eyes turned, curiosity and speculation swirling among the onlookers. "You see what happened now?" someone whispered. "This old-looking man is clearly struggling. We know he's going to be rich, but he can't afford that man."
A trembling voice stammered, "Ahhh… sorry, sorry, sorry, please, sorry." He could barely manage a proper apology, his body drenched in sweat, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
A sweet, calm voice responded, "Don't worry, no one's hurt. I am going."
For a fleeting moment, a dangerous look flashed across Asad's face, unnoticed by most.
"Hey, Luka, go help him! Why isn't anyone helping the old man? It's like I have to do it myself."
"Hey, sir, take my hand and stand up. Stop shaking. Look, he's left and accepted your apology. He's a nice person, I think I need to talk to him."
As they stood at the crossing line, Filin glanced around, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know, Elysium isn't just a city; it's a living entity. Every corner tells a story, and every person has a role to play. Look at them—rushing, ambitious, yet so disconnected. It's like they're all part of a grand performance, but no one knows their lines."
A sound of admiration filled the air. "I'm Luka. I've lived in this city for a long time. I see him every day. He's too good and kind. I don't know why, but when I saw him in reality after seeing him on TV, I thought he was very arrogant because he couldn't even say a word when I said hello."
"But after coming here for a long time, I finally see him. He's not as good at talking as he seems, but he's kind and very rich. He's the half-owner of EMP, and I don't know who has the other half."
"And he walks on the street like a normal person, but… well, we know it's not normal. And, more importantly, Filin, you need to move out before the weekend, okay?"
"Okay, Luka, I'll leave your house after tomorrow. But for now, can you help me help this man?"
We see Asad walking along a side road. He passed by countless cars and buildings, each a testament to the city's wealth. A lot of people whispered as he passed, some of them commenting on his clothes.
"See this guy," someone muttered, their voice filled with longing.
"I want to buy an EMP watch, but I can't."
"Go and beg on your knees! I bet he'll give you one. EMP is his own brand, after all."
"Fuck you! Don't make jokes about it. I really want to buy an EMP watch."
Other random voices chimed in: "Let's go eat some night snacks."
"Okay, then we can buy some for our comrade and company for work."
"Hey, Sian, are you listening? Can you give me your car for today? I want to go on a date with my girlfriend."
The man continued walking. We saw him reach a beautiful place—a large, wide river, its surface shimmering in the night, reflecting the lights of the buildings.
Along the riverbank, numerous food shops offered a variety of delights. A large bridge crossed the river, its structure illuminated, creating a stunning visual at night.
Ah, he moved his hand to his mouth. "Oha, let's go drink coffee, like always."