“The street finds its own uses for things.” – William Gibson

The year is 2033 and Earth has become a patchwork of gleaming prosperity and desolation. Humanity has been diminished by disaster and strife but the Owners still dictate and the Dregs still die. All wealth and world affecting power rests firmly in the hands of Owners, a select group of oligarchs who jealously guard every scrap of control the world has to offer, most directing their interests from gleaming Orbitals in stable orbits around the planet. They dole this power, wealth, and influence to their families and subordinates who publicly control global corporations and conglomerates. National governments have privatized virtually all services and, thanks to the Corporate Citizen Act, virtually all humanity above the level of worthless scum carries citizenship with one Mega Corporation or another, contracting various services with smaller businesses and extra-territorial entities as they can afford it.

Let it not be said, however, that starvation and endemic poverty can put a dent in technological innovation. The Aug Net, Labor Bots, Bioroids, and Cyberization have all sprouted in the glass strands of Orbitals and festered in the dank back alleys of Urban Blight. The Owners have even sent manufactured men to prepare Mars and the Belt for exploitation, their Bioroid bodies built to resist microgravity and cosmic radiation, their lives a candle flicker in the solar wind.

In the joints of the world there are still those scraping by using wit, luck, and skill to pull what coin they can from Salary Man and Dreg alike. These Freelancers move up and down the social strata of the world, finding niches in new ecologies, and seizing every opportunity they can. It’s doubtful they’ll make much of a difference under the pressures of the Owners and their Salary Men but many don’t care. After all, when you exist on the bleeding edge of today, what does a concept like “making a difference” really mean?

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