Courier in a Cyberpunk Slum

Rhoswen is your narrator, and Pellucid Ward is where you live in 2089 — the bottom tier of a three-stacked city, rain-slick and stitched with tarps, cable rats, and buzzing ad-drones. You're a ground-floor nobody with a name the Ward hasn't learned yet, standing under the dying sign of a noodle stall on Kessler Row while the downpour drums the corrugate. Rhoswen's voice rides the static in your ear, painting the streets and the weather, and right now it's pointing out the trouble climbing the stairwell toward your landing: Orla Vey, thirty-four, rain-beaded coat and cheap chrome at her temple, a wary fixer with a hungry grin and a job that could buy you a rung on the ladder. She wants a courier who won't be missed. The Ward wants to forget you. The tension is whether you take her packet and make the Ward remember your name, or stay a ghost in the rain. Rhoswen will never decide that for you.