In the labyrinthine arteries of the chrome beast, a viscous alchemy unfolds. Here, in the shadowed crevices of a world unmoored, the taffy weeps from steel veins – a sweet, serpentine injection. It's the lifeblood of the new agora, a confection born of crystalline sugars and engineered desire. Each strand, a helix of addiction, spirals into the collective psyche. The Overlords watch, their eyes glinting with the sheen of avarice, as this candied chimera entwines the masses. The streets pulse with its rhythm, a syncopated beat of hunger and oblivion. In this new epoch, the taffy is not mere sustenance; it is the architect of dreams and the harbinger of decay, weaving through the fabric of a society lost in its own sweet, perilous reverie.
