DATALOG 214
CITY OF PRAGA

The city of Praga rises from the irradiated mud plains, a sprawling shantytown metropolis buzzing with life and industry. This vital trade hub provides a rare oasis of civilization amid the lawless wastes, its vast central fortress palace a beacon of structure in a fragmented world. The city's jagged skyline pierces the perpetual haze, a chaotic assemblage of repurposed ruins and improvised structures that grows more precarious with each passing year. The people of Praga know that commerce is the only way to keep Praga alive, and the mud lands at bay, and so the air is thick with the acrid tang of industry and the underlying stench of decay, a constant reminder of the world beyond the city's walls.

Walking Praga's crowded streets, one first notices the sheer diversity. Clone workers in threadbare uniforms, heading to factories for gruelling long shifts, shuffle past caravan packmasters leading mutated beasts. Roughened scavengers from the outer mud lands cut deals with inscrutable traders, criminal gangs audacious claim entire neighbourhoods as their turf. In hidden shrines, revolutionaries plot to overthrow Athena, while on busy street corners cultists of Nyx try to recruit a few lost souls with false promises of a better life on the other side of the world. 

Throughout the city, the tireless Praga City Watch maintains a strict peace. Heavily armed squads patrol markets and maintain strongpoints throughout the city. All of the City Watch are military clones produced for that specific purpose, beginning their careers as lowly aspirants serving the veteran watch members. As a sign of their low rank, the aspirants have their heads shaved and are given only blue uniforms, but no armour. Once they have survived a certain number of missions or encounters, they will be promoted to become full members of the City Watch, are given armour and are allowed to grow back their hair.

When off-duty, the clones of City Watch seek respite in the overcrowded taverns and brothels of Praga. Here they try to drown their nightmares of deadly encounters with giant mutant kraken, deadly battles with scavengers and violent encounters with Praga’s gangs with camaraderie, liquor, and tales of fallen heroes. Sometimes, even brief romance may be found before the next gruelling tour.

At the thriving core of Praga is the Old Town, a dense warren of lean-tos, concrete blocks, and derelict high-rises intertwined around narrow alleys. Smoke rises from foundry forges while bustling markets sell meat, machinery, and more illicit products. Old Town's modular architecture shifts constantly, builders adding new layers with each year. Life adapts and carries on. Tennants eke out an existence in cramped quarters, while organised gangs prowl the alleys.

Above all looms one of Praga's foremost sights: the Blue Palace, home to the Blue Council and the Athena AI, who govern this unruly melting pot of a city. Neither Athena or the council are visible to the citizens below, but their utter authority is felt. Justice and order flow downward from the imperious spires of the palace.

Within the palace walls, the Athena AI governs through her Blue Council, a select group of humans who enjoy a life of luxury unimaginable to the masses below. While transmitting herself into an AI collar worn by a human servant, Athena, possessing a modicum more empathy than her Prime AI counterpart, allows her human hosts periods of freedom and autonomy. For a few precious hours each day, the AI collar is deactivated and the host's consciousness resurfaces, allowing her to enjoy the amenities of the palace. The servitude as Athena’s de facto body for most of her short life is a price gladly paid by the host, for the luxury and safety life in the palace offers.

The Blue Council translates Athena's will into action, and the members have incredible power and authority. But the price of this power is envy. Assassination attempts are common within the palace walls, with ambitious council members seeking to eliminate higher standing rivals and climb the ranks. Athena permits this deadly game, decreeing that such violence must be contained within the palace and limited to blade-work, ostensibly to maintain order in the broader city. 

Back in the city, the docks along the sluggish Danube river pulse with frenetic energy as cargo haulers disgorge their freight. Hordes of dockworkers swarm over the ships like ants, unloading precious food and raw materials. The air rings with shouted orders and the creaking of overtaxed cranes. Once the barges are reloaded with outgoing goods, they get back on their way. Despite dense river traffic, the dockworkers unload and load cargo with precision born of routine. The docks never sleep, the constant cycle of arrival and departure marking the rhythm of the city's existence. The waters of the river are fraught with danger. Hungry mutant creatures lurk in the murky depths, waiting for unwary barge crews or dockworkers to misstep and fall into the water, quickly wrapping their tentacles around them and pulling them into their hungry maws.

In the adjacent Factory District, columns of smoke obscure the huge foundries powering Praga's output. It's a hellscape of smoke and clanging metal. An army of clone workers and natural humans smelt steel, assemble weapons, and manufacture ammunition day and night. The worker’s bodies are pushed to the limits of endurance. Shifts are long and safety minimal, with many workers dying in tragic accidents every day. But production targets must be met, for the Prime AI is a demanding customer. Overseers with augmented eyes watch for any sign of dissent or faltering productivity. Under their watchful gaze, clone workers try to survive the backbreaking work in the factories long enough to pay off their indenture. Afterwards, they may continue to work there for pay that goes into their own pockets, or find work elsewhere. Many try to get a job in the docks, gladly trading the hellish heat of the factory foundries for the dangers of working on the docking piers jutting into the creature infested waters. 

The city's lifeblood flows through the factory district in the form of massive land trains. These behemoths lumber into the city daily, their segmented bodies of the biggest vehicles sometimes stretching for hundreds of metres. They disgorge waves of fresh clone workers, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperate hope as they step into their new lives. In return, the trains are loaded with the fruits of Praga's factories - primarily weapons and ammunition destined for Prime AI's endless armies. 

Westward, where the city meets mud flats, new shanties and tents continually spring up as Praga swells beyond its capacity. New arrivals pray they can gain a foothold before the next harsh winter or scavenger attack. These desperate individuals usually make a living hauling scrap from the mud flats into the city’s markets, an activity that many of them won’t survive for long.

As night falls, the city takes on a different character. The glow of the foundry fires in the factories paints the sky in shades of amber and crimson, while the distant shrieks of mutant creatures remind citizens of the dangers lurking not only beyond the walls, but also within. Giant mutant kraken find their way into the sewers and many an unwary citizen is dragged from the streets and into the darkness, never to be seen again.

Yet even in this dystopian nightmare, pockets of humanity persist and Praga’s citizens seek solace from the surrounding misery where they can find it. Down neon-lit streets, Nightclubs beckon all with promising pulsing music, laughter echoes from crowded bars, lovers steal moments of tenderness in shadowed alcoves, and dreamers gather in secret to share forbidden knowledge and dare to hope for a better tomorrow. In more specialised establishments, citizens immerse themselves in decadent chemical indulgences or pay for a few hours of physical intimacy. These small moments of humanity endure in Praga's soot-filled air, providing a brief respite from the harsh realities of life in the Desolation.

The city of Praga endures, an island of fragile life in an ocean of threat and shadow. It is a city of stark contrasts and bitter ironies, where the miraculous and the mundane collide daily. In the shadow of the Blue Palace and amidst the grinding gears of industry, the human spirit refuses to be extinguished, clinging to life with the same tenacity as the weeds that survive in the trodden mud of its streets. Here then, there is yet hope.