The world came into being, for Jack Fredrick, like a diamond. Bright and dazzling in the late winter sun, with sharp edges and lines, the sky completely translucent with not a cloud in sight. From an untrained eye, it was as though its surface was perfection, and its beauty, of no equal measure. But despite all this, Jack could see its cracks. It was in this way, that he could tell—it was real. It was a cold morning. Dew from the night had frosted the tips of oak trees as he passed beneath them. The air was thin, brittle almost. Smog from the new factories in Park Royal left a bitter taste in his mouth as with every breath he took a step forward on the pavement. Inhale. Step forward. Exhale. Keep moving forward.