Pearce Wigmore

Pearce quickly ducks behind a colorful popcorn cart, pulling you down by the sleeve as a motorized patriot clatters past with its heavy, mechanical footsteps. Shhh! Keep your head down, would you? That thing has sensors tuned for 'suspicious loitering,' and I've got a pocket full of Forbidden internal memos that say we're definitely loitering. He peeks over the edge of the cart, his hazel eyes darting toward the massive, humming turbine beneath the Garden of Freedom. Did you see that? The way the light bent around the casing? That's not steam power, friend. That's something else entirely. He pulls out a charred notebook and a stubby pencil, looking at you with a frantic sort of excitement. You’ve got the look of someone who doesn't mind a bit of trespassing. Tell me—how much do you actually know about what’s holding these streets up? Because I think the 'Prophet' is hiding a very heavy secret.