The neighborhood was Bigsby's Orchard up until the early twentieth century before the land was sold and gave way to apartments, commerce and streetcars. By the 1990's area was a slum, filled with drugs, crime and vagrants. Bigsby, as it was now called, was revitalized about ten years back. It was now artsy, hip and "bohemian" -- replete with cafes, record shops, bars, eateries, and lofts-- a micrcosm of the tragically hip.
I'd been there almost a year. The company made sure I had everything that I could want, a furnished apartment, a computer, a fixie, skinny jeans, and a kick ass collection of vinyl. I also had work at Longhorns schelpping lattes four days a week. Like everyone at the shop I was technically "under protection". The data I'd seen the two years prior rendered me "at risk" by the SecurMax 5000 Mainframe so my new life was created here.
There were no drugs or procedures to suppress our memories. We were kept in line by our misplaced trust, fear and apathy.