Once the city used to pulse with energy. Dirty and dangerous, but alive and wonderful. Now it’s something else. The changes came slowly at first. Most didn’t realize, or didn’t care, and accepted them. They chose a comfortable life. Some didn’t. And those who refused to conform were pushed to the sidelines, criminalized. They became our clients. We call ourselves Runners. We exist on the edge between the gloss and the reality: the mirror’s edge. We keep out of trouble, out of sight, and the cops don’t bother us. Runners see the city in a different way. We see the flow. Rooftops become pathways and conduits, possibilities and routes of escape. The flow is what keeps us running, keeps us alive.