It’s evening, and you're wandering through the ruins of a city that are nonetheless full of life. The crumbling skyscrapers are covered in greenery and makeshift habitation; food-gardens and open-air fairs line what's left of the streets.

You’re wandering through one of those fairs, an array of small colorful booths. You may not have been here before, to this street, or this city, but you’re not lost or out of place; you’re exploring, or looking for something, or just sightseeing.

This gathering may look like a marketplace, but it doesn’t work like one: goods, arts, crafts, performances and services are all shared freely, everyone operating on some sort of relaxed gift economy.

One of the stalls is a small, comfy-looking thing, draped with thick purple-and-blue cloth, with cushions laid out liberally on the ground. Colorful LEDs from salvaged electronics glitter in the waning dusk, though their light is almost drowned out by the glow of the booth’s occupant.