The sun was hot, glinting off the huge steel structures as Hope drew water from the river. She straightened, shading her eyes with her hand. Skyscrapers, they called them. She craned her neck to see the top, but the clouds were obscuring her view. She brought her focus back down to its normal level: pipes were pumping water into the river that flowed by her feet, watering the small, indigenous town by the metropolis. Few people in the city knew her town was there, and her father said they should be grateful.

Hope walked back to her hut, thinking, “Skyscrapers.”