I stood in my office on the top floor of the newly constructed Eden City Hall. It was located right next to the Supermarket, the heart of our economy. Through the floor-to-ceiling smart glass, I looked down at the neighborhood where I used to mow my lawn and worry about my credit score.
It was unrecognizable.
Sal and his crews had worked miracles. The cracked streets were gone, replaced by bamboo-moss pavement that generated its own heat to melt snow. The streetlights and sidewalks were organic, powered by solar cells and glowing with bioluminescent moss. Every house had been renovated with the Eden aesthetic—black steel, reinforced glass, and vertical gardens.
It was a futuristic rainforest. A bubble of warmth and light in a cold and dead world.
Grace walked in, holding a tablet.
"The monthly P&L is in," she said, placing the tablet on my desk.
I glanced at the bottom line.
GDP (Southfield Sector): 6,200,000,000 Spirit Stones.
"Six billion," I murmured. "Not bad for a startup."
"It’s comfortable," Grace corrected. "The Beckenfein logistics network is finally fully integrated. We’re pushing product into every corner of the city and the mine in Adam is running at 110% efficiency under Mayah’s whip."
She tapped a specific line item in red.
"The only drag is the 'Diplomatic Expense'."
I sighed. " The tomatoes."
"We are shipping thousands of crates of Heavenly Tomatoes to White Hill every week," Grace said, frowning. "For free. It’s eating into our agricultural margins."
"It’s the cost of my mistake," I said, turning back to the window. "You heard the Mayor. The peace treaty explicitly states that we have to pay an unlimited amount of tomatoes for 6 months."
"Our main export is carrying us anyway," Grace noted. " The Immortal Green Tea. The wealthy in Sector 1 are buying it by the pallet. You were right, Kaz. People will pay anything for time."
I nodded. Inside the bubble, everything was perfect. We were rich. We were safe.
"Time to pop the bubble," I said.
I grabbed my coat. "The government pulls out today."
I stood at the border of Southfield, where 8 Mile Road met the great unknown.
For the last year, this spot had been a checkpoint. Concrete barriers, bright lights, and men in grey uniforms holding federal assault rifles. They were the line in the sand that said Civilization Ends Here.
Today, the trucks were packing up.
The barriers were lifted onto flatbeds and the lights were dismantled. The soldiers looked relieved to be leaving the edge of the world.
"It’s official," a voice said over the radio. "All government resources are being redirected to Core Development in Sector 5. The suburbs are now under Faction Jurisdiction."
The last truck rumbled away, heading toward downtown Detroit.
"Do it," I said to Sal.
Sal raised his hand. "Close it up."
The construction crews moved instantly. They weren't using the old materials anymore.
[Verdant Jade Loam Bamboo (Grade 1)]
Thick stalks of blue tinted bamboo grew from the earth, weaving together with reinforced concrete to create a wall thirty feet high to create a fortification.
It took an hour to seal the perimeter of Southfield.
And it took one hour and five minutes for the world to notice.
I stood on the walkway atop the new wall, looking out.
The hordes arrived.
It was a tide. People in rags, clutching rusty knives. Low level monsters—Mutated Dogs, Giant Rats, Feral Ghouls—sniffing the air. They came from the ruins of the unchecked suburbs, drawn by the scent of life and Qi leaking from our city.
They crashed against the Verdant Jade Bamboo. The monsters clawed at the concrete. The people screamed for entry, for food, for heat.
It was a stark contrast.
Behind me: Neon lights, heated roads, food courts, peace.
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In front of me: The Walking Dead. No tech. No amenities. Just death.
"This is the reality," I whispered.
The government had been holding back the ocean. Now, we were the dam.
"We can't just expand recklessly," I realized. "We have to terraform."
I drove to the old strip mall on 12 Mile, now the headquarters of the Second Division.
Joakim was waiting for me. The former gang leader looked sharper now, wearing an Eden uniform—dark green tactical gear with black accents. His men were drilling in the parking lot, moving with the synchronized rhythm of his music cultivation.
"Sir," Joakim saluted.
"At ease," I said. "We need to talk about the Wilds."
I unrolled a map on the hood of the Terramotta.
"We need a secure corridor to the Colony in Adam," I said, tracing a line west. "And eventually, we need to expand our borders."
Joakim looked hesitant.
"Form an expeditionary force," I said. "Take your best men. I want maps and I want to know where the monsters are and where the resources are."
"Yes, sir," Joakim said.
"Be careful out there," I added. "We're on our own now."
Back at the Mansion, I sat at my desk, waiting for the weekly intelligence briefing.
Grace walked in without her usual calm demeanor and looked disturbed.
"Report?" I asked.
"You asked for national data," she said, sitting down. "Specifically, you wanted to know who the 'Best' were. You asked for New York."
"Right. If we want to win the Race of the City States, we need to know who is in first place."
Grace slid a black folder across the desk.
I opened the file.
Faction Name: Insidious.
"Edgy name," I noted.
"They earn it," Grace said. "They are an extremist Cultivator Sect. No technology. No guns. Just martial arts and Qi. They are the strongest faction in America."
I read the details.
Clan: The Drevious Family.
Recruitment: Graduates of the Northern Winds School (Upstate NY).
"A pre-collapse martial arts dynasty," I said. "They had a head start."
"More than that," Grace explained. "In Detroit, the government held on. Mayor Holson and the Feds kept the power grid up and the chaos manageable for a year. In New York? The government collapsed in week one."
I looked up. "Week one?"
"Total anarchy," Grace said. "Insidious took over immediately. They didn't have to negotiate with a Mayor or deal with zoning laws. They conquered the city by the end of the first month. That's why they are the only major faction there. They consolidated while we were filling out paperwork."
I leaned back in my chair.
"So that's the landscape," I said. "Most of these 'City States' aren't run by governments. They're run by Factions."
I looked at the map of the US.
"Washington D.C. is still government run," Grace noted. "But outside of the capital... Detroit is unique. We are the only major city where the actual old world government still has a seat at the table."
"Vicky Holson," I said, shaking my head. "She's a political genius. She made herself essential in a world that should have eaten her alive."
"So we are behind," Grace said. "New York is unified. Chicago is unified. We are still split four ways."
"Then we need to catch up," I said.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
It was a push notification, broadcast on the emergency frequency, but it wasn't from the government.
I clicked the video.
High octane music blasted from the speakers.
The screen showed drone shots of the Detroit River and panned up to the massive structure Mister O had built in downtown Detroit.
The Seaside Thunderdome.
The editing was slick, professional and looked like a Super Bowl commercial.
A voiceover played over shots of cultivators displaying their powers.
"Power needs a stage."
Text flashed on the screen.
THE FIRST ANNUAL SEASIDE CULTIVATOR TOURNAMENT.
Location: The Thunderdome.
Time: One Week.
Eligibility: Open to all Cultivators within the Detroit Metropolitan Area.
The screen shifted to a pile of glowing crystals.
GRAND PRIZE: 1,000,000 SPIRIT STONES AND A RARE ARTIFACT.
The video ended with the stylized purple boat logo of Seaside Logistics rotating slowly in neon.
"A tournament," Grace whispered. "Is he serious?"
"He's brilliant," I said. "He's a clever, arrogant bastard."
"Why?" Grace asked. "Why spend money on this?"
"Because he knows what the people need," I said. "They don't need another war. They need a distraction and entertainment."
"And he needs to know who the threats are," I added. "What better way to catalog the strength of every cultivator in the city than to invite them to show off for a paycheck?"
"So that's the reason," I whispered, standing up. "Why he built that arena."
Name: Eden
Rank (Local): Major
Rank (Global): Minor
Capital: Southfield
Demonym: Edenite
Government: Corporate Democracy
Area: 68.01 km2
Population: 70,000
GDP: 6.2 billion
Detailed
- Government
- President - Kaz Kaaz
- CEO - Grace Beckenfein
- Chief of Staff of the Army - Bells Ruper
Territories
- Southfield: Eden’s capital. Supplies labor and workforce.
Colonies
- Adam: Supplies stones and Wilds items.
Diplomacy
- Seaside: None
- White Hill: Unlimited Heavenly Tomatoes for 6 months (5 months left)
- The Cove: None
- Government: None