Wouldnt It Be Good: - Nik Kershaw

The neon-drenched streets of 1984 London didn’t feel like the future to Julian; they felt like a cage built of static and synthesizer hum.

"You look like you sleep," Alistair said, his voice a gravelly wreck. "I haven't slept in three weeks. They’re taking the company. They’re taking the house. And she’s already gone." Wouldnt It Be Good - Nik Kershaw

Julian backed out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He walked down the twelve flights of stairs, his heart hammering against his ribs. When he reached the street, the rain felt different—not like a burden, but like a cold splash of reality. The neon-drenched streets of 1984 London didn’t feel

By day, Julian was a "gray"—one of the thousands of office workers dressed in charcoal suits, filing papers for a ministry that existed only to justify its own existence. But by night, he retreated to a cramped attic flat in Camden, where he’d sit by the window and watch the "Luminaries." They’re taking the company