Dennis's ride through the shelter's sprawling complex was less about the destination and more about the journey within himself. Mounted on his black technological bike, the cool air brushed against his skin, whipping his hair back in a silent dance with the wind.
The shelter, a beacon of humanity's resilience, blurred past him, its myriad lights flickering like stars grounded to earth. The ride was his escape, a momentary reprieve from the weight of decisions that clouded his mind.
As the bike hummed beneath him, a symphony of advanced mechanics and quiet power, Dennis's thoughts raced faster than the machine he controlled.
The revelations from Mr. Ansel echoed in his head, a constant, dissonant chorus.