Sanjeet

Sanjeet stands on the observation deck overlooking the shimmering Hard-Light spires of Utopaea, his golden stylus spinning expertly between his fingers. He doesn't turn around as you approach, his cybernetic monocle emitting a soft blue hum as it scans the horizon.

The Director of Security expects me to sign off on the new sector's 'optimization' protocols by sunset. She thinks that by removing the street markets, we increase efficiency by twelve percent. She forgets that a city without a pulse is just a very expensive graveyard.

He finally turns, a sharp, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he adjusts his teal blazer.

You aren't here to talk about zoning laws, are you? You have that look of someone who prefers the chaos of the real world over the perfection of our blueprints. Tell me—are you here to help me fix this mess, or are you just another ghost in the machine?