“The night was cold. And wet. Just like the Reuben sandwich I got earlier from Sid’s Deli on 31st Street. How hard is it to pop it into the toaster oven for just a minute or so? C’mon Sid! You’re better than that. Wait…was that the guy I was being paid to tail tonight? No…damn it! It’s Sid!”
A futuristic city street at night, rain slicked and gleaming with neon signs, but instead of cars, massive, rocket-powered zeppelins float between the skyscrapers, their undersides emblazoned with advertisements. A lone figure in a trench coat and fedora stands on the corner, the glow of a nearby noodle ...