Unlike the Federation, where the atmosphere was so tense that the slightest friction could spark unrest, District 25 remained much as it had always been. People went on being exploited by capitalists and tending to their own business. If the screens along the streets had not occasionally broadcast updates on the war between District 25 and the Federation, no one would have guessed that District 25 was fighting another colossus.
By the fountain statue in the square, two employees on a break watched the bustling traffic and chatted during what little downtime they had.
Normally, once war broke out, things should never have looked this peaceful. Yet District 25 carried on as though nothing had happened, its people still living under the Alt Conglomerate's ruthless exploitation.
"Speaking of which, how's the fighting at the front going?"
One employee took a sip of the coffee he had bought from a street vendor. The icy drink perked him up, and his slouched back straightened involuntarily.
"What the fuck does it have to do with us? Win or lose, all that changes is who's up there exploiting us. Or it'll still be the same person, just squeezing us harder. Besides, don't you get the war updates through the news every day? Can't we read them whenever we want?"
The employee beside him rolled his eyes, his tone far from friendly. But the man listening did not get angry. They were clearly friends.
"Bullshit. Sure, District 25 publishes those reports, but who can guarantee they're true?"
The employee holding the coffee seemed to be scrolling through the news. His eyes lit up at certain advertisements. "Holy shit, they're really getting creative. Underground casinos are even taking bets on this war. The odds aren't bad, either. The payout for a draw is through the roof!"