Pluto Regime Skyscraper Rooftop

The rooftop of a colossal skyscraper piercing Pluto’s smog-choked sky, its surface slick with condensation from the frigid upper atmosphere. A thousand meters above the planetary surface, the wind howls with unnatural force, bending the few hardy shrubs that cling to ledges where maintenance drones once docked. The edge where Cordo stands is a razor-thin precipice, the drop into the city’s underbelly a vertiginous black void punctuated only by the jagged spires of lesser corporate towers. Below, the city pulses with the oppressive glow of holographic advertisements for Pluto Heavy Industries, their blue-white light reflecting off the rooftop’s corroded metal plating. The air smells of ozone and old lubricant, the scent of machinery pushed beyond endurance. Here, the Doctor and Leela land with a half-meter crunch in the synthetic snow, their boots leaving transient footprints in the grit that coats the unforgiving surface.