He arrived at the coordinates at 06:00 hours. The rain had slicked the mountains of debris into a shining, hazardous mirror. He scanned the ground. A rusted servitor arm. A shattered holographic emitter. Trash. Trash. Trash.
Look into the daily patterns or triggers that might cause the described issue.
Elias sat up, the thin foam of his sleeping pod decompressing around his waist. His heart rate spiked, a conditioned response. SSNI-337. It was an old code, a remnant of the early allocation algorithms, rarely triggered in the Sector 4 slums. In the vernacular of the street, it meant one thing: High-Value Trash.
