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Milly Alcock
Long wing lands in a city centre, surrounded by farms. Below has been dug out, fortified against water. A city at levels under what grows.
Elevators up and from there transport to and from rim. People go down with produce.
MA lives along a train line, distant from the city. Place a bit immune to time. Families stay at the same stage. Kids stay kids.
She's in between, doesn't want to be either, and wants what time lingers in instead of enjoys done.
Packs her bags and buys a place on the farm. Small allotment to pay back producing something, slaving away ensuring necessities a start. She gets bored easily. Credits to empower her desire are few and she saves them. Sees attempted sections for expansion that society decided secondary to enriching and repairing/replacing closer to core.
Some wanting less competition use the half finished superstructure. Shops and social settings that can fail and still continue. A labour of love. A passion. Other people not getting it OK, them getting it good enough. Sparce visitors of the same soul, or interest, whatever, customers, get the feel and peruse unmolested. No pressure. They found something. A bit of help so the owners can find more somethings for others to find: nice. Not a big deal. Either way won't kill or make what's there. Depending on visitors for doubts about enthusiasm and commitment allayed.
Price paid, like a bank. Keeping the customer going (with beautiful things.)
