From Shrimp Boy to Slapjack: System Activated

Left

Lying in the sterile confines of my room, the harsh glow of the night light casting long shadows across the white walls, I was no longer serenaded by the discordant symphony of the city, but by the cacophony of my own thoughts.

My mind wandered back, retracing the steps that led me here. From the idyllic, albeit restricted, world of the shrimp shack, to the sterile perfection of the city, my life had been a constant negotiation with the system. I had strived, naively perhaps, to be the good citizen, the loyal contributor, utilising the very platform that controlled me to try and make a difference.

But as I replayed the recent events, the chilling encounter with John Cook, the fear in my sister's voice, the helplessness I felt in the face of Zephyr's veiled threats, a cold realisation washed over me. My attempts at following the script, playing my part in the grand orchestration of the city, had yielded nothing but fear, frustration, and a gnawing sense of powerlessness.

The melody wit