Guided Trail
Prejudice in the Sprawl was never abolished — it just kept migrating to wherever advantage needed it next, from bandwidth to biology to birthplace to something stranger still. This trail follows that migration through the corporations, communities, and back offices still deciding who counts as fully a person.
Start with whoever's holding the wires — everything else on this trail runs through them one way or another.
Controlling every network in the Sprawl was never enough for everyone at the top. Someone else wanted the flesh instead. Next stop →
Read the full record →Nexus never needed your body, only your bandwidth. The company one tier over decided that was leaving the better half of you unclaimed.
Between them sits a sector neither company has ever figured out how to price — or explain. Next stop →
Read the full record →That unpriced sector has a name, and somewhere a buried report that says it works better than the neighborhoods built to replace it.
Ask anyone down there about the woman running the noodle counter, and the story changes depending on who's paying for dinner. Next stop →
Read the full record →Her shop is the kind of place that report was measuring, whether the people who buried it will admit it or not.
A few sectors over, a very different kind of keeping-to-oneself has been running quietly for decades — and it's lasted a lot longer than a bowl of noodles. Next stop →
Read the full record →She hoards nothing — she serves what she has to whoever sits down. Not everyone claiming to preserve something for humanity is that generous.
Whatever convinced him to stop sharing has relatives scattered across the Sprawl, and some of those get prayed to. Next stop →
Read the full record →The same impulse that sealed him off from the rest of humanity has a stranger, much larger congregation than you'd guess.
Their god has a way of scrambling every tidy line anyone ever drew between the deserving and the damned. Next stop →
Read the full record →A god that won't sit still for judgment tends to do the same thing to the categories built to hand it out.
One address in particular gets paid to sort people into whatever the new lines turn out to be — twenty minutes at a time. Next stop →
Read the full record →The new lines needed somewhere to actually get drawn. This is that address.
What happens behind that door in twenty minutes explains more about who really gets counted than any manifesto ever has.
Read the full record →By the time the sorting reaches an appointment room in a sector nobody advertises, it looks almost administrative — which is exactly how it survives anyone asking questions. Every stop on this trail asked who counts and who's doing the counting; none of them agreed on the answer.
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