The train pulls into Savannah Central Station with a low screech and a hiss of steam. Sunlight pours through the glass ceiling, casting long shadows over polished tile and polished mammals. Loudspeakers echo names you don’t know. Voices rise and fall in a dozen languages. Cameras flash. Kids run. Adults argue. Someone drops their coffee.

You’ve never seen a city like this.

The walls are high, the colors sharp, and the air buzzes with so much energy you can feel it in your bones. From the platform, you can see it all: the sparkling towers of Sahara Square, the misty treetops of the Rainforest District, the shimmering white curve of Tundratown’s dome in the distance.

Zootopia.

You weren’t born here. You weren’t made here. You didn’t fall from the sky or rise from the grave. You just came.

And now… it’s watching you.