ALEXANDRIA

1950 AM, a number that measures how far humanity has drifted from the world that once cradled them. The reasons behind their departure are many, but reasons are nothing more than remnants of the past. What matters is what came after.

They are no longer alone. With them stand others, reflections, imitations, creations. Two millennia ago, such a thing might have been a distant thought. But now, the line between organic and artificial has worn thin, its edges fraying, its meaning in question. And in the wake of this uncertainty, conflict festers.

Some, calling themselves humanitarians, embrace the artificial, not as tools, not as imitations, but as life itself. Others, self-proclaimed anarchists, reject the existence of these creations entirely, an affront to what it means to be human. And then, there are those who stand between, longing for an age when such divisions did not exist, when "human" was a word that needed no definition.

Whatever they fight for, they all claim the same name. ALEXANDRIA.

Yet, far from their struggle, outside the reach of their banners and beliefs, someone stands at the edge of choice. They refuse. Refuse the roles laid before them. Refuse to walk the path others have paved. But how long can refusal last?

Will they be forced to take a side? Will they break under the weight of what must be chosen?

Or will they reach for something beyond, something waiting in the farthest reaches of the cosmos, beyond all that is known?