I'd be in it for a 'Blue Pill' basement reality comprising a couple square blocks of 2 AM Urban Anonymous that's just gritty enough to underscore 'noir' vice 'blight.' A place where you can rent a room in a passable flophouse, but you're only ever there to sleep, shower and change outfits; the real action is at the all-night diner, where the coffee's a good four notches past adequate and the unchallenging jazz track occasionally slips into weird discordance. Here, every night brings baffling banter, cryptic missions and increasingly stranger acquaintances. Perhaps you *are* on a bespoke asteroid, or in the Twilight Zone, or just blissfully comatose somewhere with a jack in your skull, because it's perpetually 2 AM. Except... 2 AM is good enough - forever - and it doesn't matter that you'll never leave this place, because the journey's internal and home was always in your head.
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