April 26th 2116 New Harbor, North America. 9:38pm It was colder then usual tonight. Crisp snowflakes dangled and dances towards the ground, as the neon world around them began to flutter around with bright vibrant lights. The city was bustling with activity, like normal, as people from a wide array of nationalities and cultures went about their daily lives. Partying, sleeping, talking...it was the same. Although the world felt safer, it has never been so dangerous. Those at the bottom of society struggled to barely make ends meet, if at all, while the rich celebrate and parade themselves with paradise on earth. Tensions were high, but society was nothing in comparison to the meaning of things in the long term. Fifty years ago, various major cities on the American East Coast had grown to the extent that it was impossible to regulate them efficiently within a local office. The President came out with a speach to the public addressing this issue, and to solve it, the first true megalopolis in the world was created. From New York to Philadelphia, the new city of New Harbor was set to take the center stage as the greatest city of mankind. It's 2116, and things are about to change tonight....
The scarf was for show. Entirely so. He wouldn't ever need such an extravigant piece of tat backing his internals. It would be a heck of a breakdown. Overheating by scarf. Supposed to happen only to snowmen. Especially flying ones. He pauses, clutching his bag of groceries and scanning the immediate area for a moment. There were no snowmen here. Plenty of snow but none of it had been touched at all. 7:49 at night and not a flake appeared out of place. Were there no children at all here? If he was to let this pointless thread continue on it's preamble, he ought to factor in the various boarded up windows and how everylight was dead in every window. A power outage? Or was this place being evacuated? "Anyone there?" He jerks around to face the walking human wreckage of the man before him. He was covered from head to boot in various tars and oils, most synthetic to his hair, teeth and clothes a glint. He had the shell of an eye on his cheek. The andriod eye hanging there like a stray piece of offal. It was mesmerisingly horrid. "You seem pretty well set up for a guy in these parts." The stranger spits, smirking. He grabs the eye from his face and throws it asside. "You, ah...Lookin' to by a little company? Can't hire but I can sell or build custom." Was it best to keep talking to this man? None of the lines he was bringing to memory seemed very useful. The thought of Columbo hanging from a bridge in the last episode were pulling him on. Something intrieging here. Were there always androids being made? Are they OK? Is this man building them correctly? How did you build an android? "All right." Robbert said. "What do you have?"
