Nile's Haven

The air in Niles' bar was its usual toxic stew—stale beer clung to decades-old composite flooring, layers of unwashed bodies radiated sweat and desperation, and smoke billowed, dense with cheap narcotics and engineered tobacco blends. Just another Tuesday, she thought, a bitter taste coating her tongue, in the cesspit they call 'entertainment.'

The cloying hint of knock-off perfume and discount synth-cologne occasionally cut through, doing nothing to improve the atmosphere—just adding extra notes to the chemical assault on her augmented senses. Niles doesn't bother with incense.

• Markus Kane

• Titanium Zirconium Dioxide