Prometheus looked out of the window of his building. Window might not be the correct term, it was just part of the wall that had been micro sanded smooth and clear enough to be transparent. The entire star was a giant crystal of immense durability, but had been carved into the great world city, Valvendra. Space here was worth more than the output of entire galaxies, and Prometheus had a building, not an apartment.
"It is funny how, even after breaking the shackles of space and opening up infinity, it still comes down to money," he said, idly drinking something reminiscent of a strong whisky, but with sweeter undertones. Prometheus didn't need wealth, but he needed a say in the governing of the Metaverse, and the two went hand in hand.
