"Good morning, Chris."

The soft voice of his home AI gently roused Chris from his sleep as it had every morning for the past five years. One of many built-in features of his cutting-edge apartment in Daystar Heights, the tone of voice - feminine, kind, with a hint of teasing - along with the automatic brightening of his room to simulate a beam of sunlight, was perfectly designed to provide maximum wakefulness with minimal stress. As he sat up and stretched his shoulders, the wall monitor displayed his to-do list overtop the background of sunrise-over-rolling-hills. The first item, "Wake Up" checked off with a pleasant 'ding!' and a responding hint of dopamine. The second, "Drink Water," scrolled to the top, and Chris obediently grabbed the chilled glass which appeared on his nightstand.

Exactly 26 minutes and 34 seconds later, a "New personal best!" according to the AI's congratulatory remarks, Chris had completed his morning routine and was sipping on a breakfast smoothie as he stepped out the front door of his apartment. The slightly sweet and nutritionally complete beverage was cool on his tongue, a refreshing compliment to the warmth of the artificial sunlight streaming down in his neighborhood's signature weather pattern. At the top of the city, with the best lighting and the cleanest air, residence in Daystar Heights was as coveted as it was exclusive. It was only Chris' relatively recent promotion to junior executive in the city's top news bureau that granted him the capital and clout necessary to land even a smaller apartment here. Along with the sunlight, wide lawns and curved walking paths between the buildings cemented the feeling of luxury. With space at a premium, spending it on plants and pedestrians was something few could afford.

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Chris had little time for musing, however, as he strode with purpose towards the largest building in sight. Towering over even the highest penthouse apartments nearby, the Nimrod Building was less its own structure and more an integral part of the city's foundation. By design, it stood at the exact center of the city, making the most of the available space and still nearly touching the dome, which itself curved over the whole city. The Nimrod Building also had access to all levels, containing every government office, and all of the most important businesses, from the wealthy heights to the government-funded projects on the lowest layer. You would be hard-pressed to find a single person in the whole city who didn't either work there themself or at least know someone who did.

Chris was no exception. While not explicitly sponsored by the government, The Daily Prophet had several offices in the Nimrod building for easy access both to its workers and a steady flow of gossip. It was toward the loftiest of these that Chris now headed, joining the steady flow of white-collar workers in fine suits and stilettos. Through the continuously revolving door and into the lacquered lobby of the 601st floor, the sharply dressed young man escaped the press thronging towards the elevator line and instead stepped up to a pair of doors embossed with the Prophet's logo, a stylized eye with the image of the globe replacing its pupil. All the world's a stage, presented for your viewing pleasure. Chris presented his badge to the bored security guard, who did not bother looking up from the video playing on his slate before waving him through the doors. They closed behind him, the echoing sound of footsteps muffled and replaced by the hum of quiet conversation as Chris entered the domain of The Daily Prophet.