In the not-too-distant tomorrow, the Prospector Leviathan rumbled across the dead expanse, a moving city cobbled from salvage and desperation. Its titanic wheels ground the poisoned earth beneath it, grinding further the scars left by decades of relentless mining. A dystopian ark, a vertical labyrinth of stacked shanties, flapping tarps, and corroded spires reaching hungrily toward a smog-smeared sky. From above, it resembled a termite mound on wheels, a monument to humanity’s refusal to stop devouring itself.