Level 2 of the Obsidian Archive was a graveyard of obsolete arrogance.
Mara leaned heavily against a shattered, hyper-glass display case, her head throbbing in a dull, agonizing rhythm that perfectly matched the idling gravity-drives of the transport parked on the floor above. The pre-System museum exhibit was designed to showcase Old World opulence, an architectural love letter to the era's billionaires. A cracked, neon-lit placard hung above the entrance, its letters buzzing with dying electricity: The Future of Humanity. Sustainable Corporate Synergy. The apocalypse had turned it into a cruel, visceral joke. Half-dissolved luxury sports cars, once priced in the millions, were slowly sinking into bubbling pools of corrosive black tar. Bronze statues of corporate executives, frozen in poses of visionary triumph, were melting from the waist down, their metallic faces warping into screams as the acidic sludge chewed through the metal.
