Fine




FINE
FINE is a legal, corporate-owned narcotic drink sold across the megacity, dispensed from self-service machines that resemble oversized soda fountains. Syrupy and slightly viscous, it pours into cheap plastic cups—ubiquitous in the gutters, markets, and alleys of the sprawl.
Its effects are subtle but insistent: a narcotic haze, a loosening of anxiety, a dreamlike euphoria that lingers just long enough to take the edge off poverty and despair. Withdrawals are mild compared to harder drugs, making FINE the perfect working-class escape—tolerated, normalized, and consumed nightly by millions.
Every slum block has a kiosk lit like a beacon, harsh fluorescent light spilling from cracked tiles and graffiti-scarred walls. Inside: row after row of identical machines, each serving different flavors of FINE in muted colors. No snacks, no cigarettes, no distractions—just the drink.




















Damn Dog. You leave it behind. It’s always waiting when you come back.

