Synopsis: World Rising

Venice seems to flourish far into the future. The old grandeur of centuries past is alive and simmering under the waters. The sea rocks the gondolas among the golden statues at night, as old lullabies are crooned at the moon. In the shadows, powdered women roam in lacy petticoats and glittering masks, while men hide under cloaks and sigh their infatuations.

Yet the walls are beginning to crumble--the city-state, isolated from the world, is dying. The aristocracy continue their hedonism, despite the low rumble of revolution among the rest of the populace. Centuries of spending have begun to catch up as the treasury dips low and the stomachs growl. There are whispers of uprisings and cyborg armies. And there is talk about the Outside, looming closer everyday.

In the midst of all this, the last of some substitution machinery is installed in the dying body of a young woman. Another woman in oil-stained ripped finery leans over her, sewing up the skin with trembling hands. With a whir, the cyborg on the table opens her eyes, and blinks.

(...now this is turning into my actual story ashdalka)