Arthur stepped over the groaning, sparking bodies of the cybernetic trolls. He pushed the heavy gold-plated doors open.
The blast of cold, air-conditioned air hit him first. Then came the noise.
Sector 5 was an absolute assault on the senses. The Neon Exchange was not just a casino. It was a sprawling, multi-level monument to corporate greed.
Thousands of slot machines chimed and whistled in a chaotic symphony. Massive holographic screens floated in the air, flashing bright numbers and odds in a dozen different alien languages. The floor was covered in a ridiculously plush purple carpet that swallowed the sound of their footsteps.
The air smelled like expensive, synthetic perfume, spilled alcohol, and the sharp, sour tang of desperation.
Arthur adjusted his tailored charcoal suit. He walked onto the floor with the casual, bored confidence of a billionaire.
