We live in the year 2312.
We are confined to an island — one we cannot leave. The aggressive dogs lie in wait, stalking us from the shadows. They possess instinctive resistance to all poisons, with tough hides and massive bodies weighing nearly half a ton. Killing them is virtually impossible.
"If we must do anything," said Sinan,
"it should be to escape this situation… though it will be incredibly difficult."
Morning came while they were still discussing their fate.
Adlof stood up, took the vehicle, and set off toward a densely populated settlement — one fortified by thick walls to keep the dogs out. He had intended to meet a few old friends. But he was denied entry.
Guard: "What's your name, sir?" he asked respectfully.
Adlof: "Adlof Dos Yalatis Hantirs."
Guard: "Apologies, sir… but what class do you belong to?"
Adlof: "I live outside the city, in a shelter."
The guard laughed mockingly and shut the gate in his face without another word.
He was denied entry.
Why?
Because the wealthy had taken control, drawing a firm dividing line between themselves and the common people.
That detestable selfishness felt like hell to Adlof — a burning fury inside him — but he showed no hostile emotion.
Instead, he simply turned away… and left.