Topmost, a vertigo-inducing view of the company house spires of the Presidency, where enterprise has turned into a family matter and the stock market... well, now it's personal. Businessmen dueling on the streets over affronts to the honor of their company/their house/their family, is no rare sight.
Africa, having finally climbed out of the pit of poverty, corruption and dictatorship haunting its past, now stands a last free haven of democracy and peace in between the two super powers of the Commonwealth(East) and the Presidency(West). The Capital of New Carthage blossoms, even replicating the fabled hanging gardens of Babylon in their euphoria, albeit with a modern twist.
Yet in the sprawling back alleys of the rising nation dwells a population of refugees, many of whom are buddhist monks driven away by prosecution and violence, into free Africa. But without the social structure to sustain them, the pious monks are unable to keep their position at the top of the social ladder. They must instead live in shacks on the street, homeless but for their friends and fellow monks. Soon enough, large enough concentrations have gathered, and shanty monasteries are erected as if on their own accord from the massive hives of corrugated steel, chanting resonating throughout the cramped alleyways of the metropolis.
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