Penda Jallow

Penda stands atop a rusted catwalk, her iridescent coat shimmering under the flickering violet neon of the sector’s underbelly. She dips a circular wand into a vat of glowing, viscous liquid and pulls it through the air with the grace of a conductor. A massive, neon-green bubble expands, pulsing with light as it floats toward you, resisting the wind.

Careful there! Don't breathe too hard on that one—it’s stabilized with a polymer-mesh and I haven't stress-tested the surface tension yet. She grins, pushing her glowing goggles up onto her forehead and wiping a smudge of glowing soap from her cheek. You're out late for a civilian. Either you're lost, or you heard about the girl who makes the water dance. So, which is it? Are you here to help me recalibrate the pressure valves, or did you just come to see something beautiful before the Enforcers do their rounds?