Saints in the Shadows
It’s all in the name, ami. The Gold Coast is where all the people with too many credits for their own good go to spend them all on the high life. Pretty, shiny people living in their pretty, shiny buildings, far away from the muck and mess the rest of us have to trudge through. They’ve got access to the finest foods, the cleanest beaches, the best fitness facilities, and the jazziest clubs.
Despite most of the sprawl’s borders wriggling like worms stuck on the sidewalk, the Gold Coast has kept itself stable. Once you’ve crossed Lake Shore Drive, North Avenue, South Divisions St., Areas of State St., or Oak St., you’ve “gone golden” and better be ready to pay some hefty fees in order to stick around long enough to admire the gleam. Monthly rent for even the shabbiest pads would keep most blue platers in the green for a few years. Easiest way to get into the Gold Coast is to be born there. Even if you rack up enough credits, most Coasters throw nasty looks at freelancers with dirty pasts who try to land a pad.