Pidge dreams of a city. It is strikingly beautiful, unnaturally perfect, even. The grime and disrepair and ugly utilitarian architecture that are ubiquitous in all the cities they've known before are notably absent here. On the horizon, they can see some buildings disassembling or reshaping or erecting themselves, as if it were no more difficult than raising a tent. In the space between and above the buildings fly craft which could be loosely described as flying cars, if flying cars did not much resemble actual cars and had—apparently—few to no constraints on their shape, size, ornamentation, or general practicality.

Walking down the street, they see the people of the city, some of whom look like ordinary humans. Others have fantastical features—purple skin, cat ears, cute curly horns, and robotic prosthetics, to name a few. There is at least one centaur. Very few of them look old, and none look unhealthy.

Pidge comes to an intersection and sees a park nearby, at its center, a fountain. It launches water into the air which, on its way down, shapes itself into animals that playfully chase each other across the water's surface. A crowd of people watch the show, many of them eating ice creams, snow cones, or more exotic snacks. These seem to originate from a small kiosk beside the path which, on command, forms food out of thin air.

In any other city, one would expect to see people who are downtrodden, struggling under the weight of their burdens—it's visible in their faces, their posture. There don’t appear to be any here. The prevailing mood in the city is one of peace, joy, and hope.

Pidge awakens to a star-studded dark sky. The sun and the earth are visible in the distance.

Pidge dreams of a city. It is strikingly beautiful, unnaturally perfect, even. The grime and disrepair and ugly utilitarian architecture that are ubiquitous in all the cities they've known before are notably absent here. On the horizon, they can see some buildings disassembling or reshaping or erecting themselves, as if it were no more difficult than raising a tent. In the space between and above the buildings fly craft which could be loosely described as flying cars, if flying cars did not much resemble actual cars and had—apparently—few to no constraints on their shape, size, ornamentation, or general practicality.

Walking down the street, they see the people of the city, some of whom look like ordinary humans. Others have fantastical features—purple skin, cat ears, cute curly horns, and robotic prosthetics, to name a few. There is at least one centaur. Very few of them look old, and none look unhealthy.

Pidge comes to an intersection and sees a park nearby, at its center, a fountain. It launches water into the air which, on its way down, shapes itself into animals that playfully chase each other across the water's surface. A crowd of people watch the show, many of them eating ice creams, snow cones, or more exotic snacks. These seem to originate from a small kiosk beside the path which, on command, forms food out of thin air.

In any other city, one would expect to see people who are downtrodden, struggling under the weight of their burdens—it's visible in their faces, their posture. There don’t appear to be any here. The prevailing mood in the city is one of peace, joy, and hope.

Pidge awakens to a star-studded dark sky. The sun and the earth are visible in the distance.