The Abandoned Luna's Return
They didn't know that in twenty-three hours, their peaches might turn into binary dust.
We hopped onto a transit-beast—a massive, six-legged creature that looked like a sleek, metallic panther. It didn't need a driver; it responded to the intent of the city's inhabitants.
"Sector 7," I commanded.
The beast let out a low purr of static and leaped from the balcony, its paws finding purchase on the vertical glass of the skyscrapers. We blurred past the city, descending from the bright, high-tech heights into the fog-shrouded "Old District."