This was the end of the first Tycos—an entity that had grown effectively, though in a controlled manner, enjoying a relatively even distribution of wealth while maintaining a visionary, even pioneering, spirit in the exploration and settlement of distant territories. All of this was lost in the power struggles of opportunists, a consequence of the inherent nature of the Zerer, whose discipline toward the collective was broken by their yearning for freedom and individuality.

Though the technocracy is still credited with laying the foundations of the Eastern Hegemony, the societal structure it required was ultimately rejected. The Zerer willingly accepted hardship in exchange for the chance at boundless wealth, embracing the game of the pyramid—a system that ultimately only functioned for those on its lower and middle levels.

Everyone consumed from the few. Many worked for the select elite, failing in their ambition to have others consume from them, and thus exchanged their time, labor, and skills for money to secure their survival. Most did not even attempt to forge their own path; instead, they followed the path of least resistance, seduced by the offerings of the few and selling themselves to them. Just as in the welfare state of the technocracy, the majority of the population remained complacent, asleep, while a minority seized opportunities and became more vigilant than ever. For in this new order, innovations—competitive advantages—became an essential, informal currency.

Beyond individuality, the Zerer found a new form of equality in what they had possessed from the very beginning: potential. Each person had intellect, skills, and creativity—the ability to achieve quality in their actions. The only question that remained was how this potential would be applied. The one certainty was that the use of one’s abilities was no longer required for the greater good of society. Instead, it became a matter of free choice—one that, in turn, transferred the responsibility for an individual’s success entirely onto themselves.

Most people surrendered their decision-making, stagnated, consumed, and remained in bliss—so long as their job security was intact. But if that security was lost, poverty and even death loomed, for no one caught the weak with benevolence. Economic downfall often came hand in hand with a loss of freedoms, and if no new workplace was found, a cruel choice awaited. Either one submitted to the system and took on debt—risking enslavement by the interest of the sharks—or sought a path outside the system, embracing crime.

Thus, distinct social strata and parallel societies emerged. Among them were those who survived purely through the underworld and many others who joined collectives. Whether gangs, mafia-like organizations, or other groups, this layer of society was simply called the Scum, and it followed its own rules and laws, depending entirely on whose territory one operated in. The Scum often culled itself, clashing with the private security forces of the corporations, engaging in a ruthless competition for survival that forged many talented individuals hardened by life itself.

On the other hand, it was a machine greased with blood—a reality that repelled many and drove them into the arms of the sharks. Those with good prospects bent the knee to the bankers. For everyone else, the corporations remained, and at worst, the moguls within the Scum—who often operated as service providers for the corporations. They orchestrated debt bondage, forced labor in the shipyards, steel mills, and mines of the uncontrollably expanding metropolis, where entire landscapes were erased to make way for the desires of capital—the steel of infrastructure.

With increasing urbanization and social stratification, distinct city districts took shape, each molded by the corporations that controlled them and their methods. The North and West housed the steel industry, the South was dominated by the shipyards, while the East became home to Syncanite manufactories and research centers. At the heart of it all lay the bureaucracy, orchestrating production and commerce, sharing its towering district with banks, insurance companies, and, at the highest levels, the penthouses of the financial elite.

A vast railway network connected it all, transporting both goods and Zerer across the many districts and levels—a network that grew in complexity with the city itself, reaching ever more remote zones, some of which even the railroad workers could not explain the purpose of. For even the Scum found its way into this system, which soon became the very symbol of the all-encompassing interdependence of Tycan society.

ven during the era of the technocracy, the metropolis relied on external resources and established colonies to secure them. At first, incentives were offered to encourage emigration, but over time, the issue of overpopulation was solved through deportation. Most of those sent away were forced laborers, dispatched to satisfy the insatiable hunger of the metropolis. Colonies became occupation zones, controlled by the security forces of the ruling corporations. And just as in the metropolis itself, struggles erupted over spheres of influence—over markets and resource sources. Every major player sought to claim the colonies’ wealth for themselves, granting access to others only for a price, thereby exerting power through dependency.

Yet none of this changed the material needs of the metropolis, whose crisis was massively exacerbated by the additional military costs required to maintain control. These ventures became unprofitable and even threatened the dominance of the major players. Mid-sized and smaller actors, along with the Scum, entered the fray, further complicating the situation. Their sheer volume of activity blurred the lines of control. The mutual weakening of the great powers created opportunities for the smaller ones, and at the top of the pyramid, revolutionary forces became a growing fear.

In a secret gathering of the Shadow Council—the clandestine assembly of the capitalist elites—a decision was made to establish a regulatory authority. The troops of the major powers operating outside the metropolis were pooled as capital assets of a single corporate entity. Their numbers determined the shares held in this new organization. This mega-military corporation unified the armed forces of the major players, crushed the competition, and directly managed the colonies. Profits from this enterprise were distributed among shareholders based on their capital contributions. Thus, a mega-corporation was born—one whose power overshadowed all others but was only possible through the unification of the dominant actors.

Soon, the High Command of this regulatory authority would claim the title of government and begin to challenge its own shareholders. Likewise, the corporations would seek to buy out one another’s stakes, creating ever-shifting power structures over the centuries. Yet, one thing remained constant: at any given time, it was always the actors at the top who dictated the fate of the Eastern Hegemony. This system ensured perpetual competition, fostering progress, immeasurable wealth, and a structured order that secured both stability and actionability within the framework of the pyramid.

This principle permeated the entire hierarchy of society, with the only variation being the degree of responsibility resting upon each individual.

Some rise high; many fall deep. Few ever manage to ascend to the highest spheres. Most lived as workers, many as indentured servants or as part of the Scum. In the end, the law of the strongest prevailed once more—only this time, strength was not just physical but also economic and psychological. The ruthless competition within the Tycan pyramid propelled technological advancement at an unprecedented rate. The methods of the technocrats often endured within corporate leadership, but now with an added dimension—a new form, a new understanding of prosperity.

This model proved far more satisfying than any collectivist society could ever provide. It stimulated the very essence of the Zerer, so much so that few even noticed the perversion of individualism into selfishness. And for those who did, it remained a realization that was quickly crushed beneath the grinding stones of the system—for hunger is not sated by thoughts alone.