Jutaku-chi

Jutaku-chi is the main residential area for ネオンしま Neonshima.

The street is lined with cigarettes and trash bags, soggy from the recent rains. A cat, or something of a similar size, skitters from a trash can, knocking the lid over. It rolls across the alley and takes a good twenty seconds to settle. In the richer district, the bins are sealed and the rodents frequently kept in check. But for the rest of the citizens, this hellhole is home.
The apartments are just as tall as the skyscrapers of downtown. The cheap cookie-cutter design makes it almost seem endless when you look at it. Each layer exactly the same as the last, like everyone is living in Lego bricks. And what tiny bricks they are. The ceilings slightly too short, the rooms slightly too cramped. Spending too much time there can drive a person insane. That's probably why it always feels so deserted. The light's on but nobody's home, as they say.
But there are some lights that don't go out. Even here, the neon lights blaze. Pity the people that live next to them, they might as well paint their windows black. Most probably have. Not as if there's anything to even see outside. It forces people to make the inside count.
The insides of these apartments are as space-saving as possible. It's almost funny how people keep buying the ever-smaller products companies keep pumping out, just to get a sense of having a little more space. It's almost sad, if they weren't such indoctrinated consumer zombies. Like anyone here has the right to call people that.
Everyone living here is all the same. Just another cog in the machine.