Prime shimmered beneath its titanium-alloy dome like a jewel in the ashes of a dead world. From orbit, it was one of seven glowing sanctuaries scattered across Earth’s scorched surface—remnants of humanity’s last gasp at survival after the Collapse. Inside, life was sterilized, stratified, and soaked in synthetic luxury. Outside? Just dust, silence, and the bones of a world that once breathed green.

At the heart of it all pulsed Virex, the omnipotent mega-corporation that had replaced governments, religions, and revolutions. Virex built the domes, engineered the oxygen recyclers, digitized the education systems, designed the neural implants, and owned every byte of the collective consciousness. You didn’t just live in a Virex city—you were Virex. From birth to bandwidth.

The sky was artificial. The food was protein-coded paste repackaged to taste like nostalgia. Emotions were regulated via injectable mods sold under the promise of “Maximum Life Optimization.” Trees existed only as digital art installations. Animals were a myth. Rain, when programmed, came on Tuesdays.

To the billions plugged into Virex’s immersive network—Echelon—life was perfect. There were no wars. No poverty. No aging, if you could afford the bio-shell upgrades. The city was safe, clean, and orderly. A paradise.

But not everyone saw it that way.

Beyond the carefully curated feeds and propaganda-slick avenues lived the Disjuncts—those who had severed themselves from Echelon. They drifted in the deep zones of the domes, scavenging forgotten tech and old data caches, whispering of the Before. They believed Virex had murdered more than nature. They believed the world outside could still be healed.

They were watched. Hunted. Silenced.

And yet... a spark was kindling in the undercode. Something old. Something human.