Raj hated paperwork.
Unfortunately, paperwork loved Raj.
Which was why she found herself walking through Asphyxia carrying an entire stack of documents.
The stack was taller than her head.
Several pedestrians moved out of the way.
Not because they respected her.
But because they were afraid the papers would collapse and kill somebody.
A valid concern.
Raj adjusted the pile.
Then immediately regretted it.
A page slipped free.
She caught it.
Another escaped.
She caught that one too.
A third page attempted freedom.
Raj crushed its dreams.
Eventually she reached her destination.
A refugee registration center.
One of many.
The line stretched around the block.
Families.
Travelers.
Farmers.
Merchants.
People carrying everything they owned.
People carrying nothing at all.
Raj had seen it for months now.
But it never became easier.
The attacks outside the cities were getting worse.
More demons.
More disappearances.
More rumors.
Every week the numbers increased.
And every week Asphyxia became more crowded.
A worker noticed her arrival.
"Miss Raj."
Raj nodded.
"Status?"
The worker immediately handed over several reports.
"We're running low on temporary housing."
"Expected."
"Food supplies remain stable."
"Good."
"The western district is complaining again."
Raj sighed.
"About what this time?"
"The refugees."
Of course.
Always the refugees.
The worker looked uncomfortable.