"Phantoms. All we know is phantoms."
Dystopian city is living its best life. A reporter from the news blows his brains out during a live broadcast. An ex-archeologist, ex-professor, always-a-poet and now burglar takes his second ever case to crack open a Soul Box. A strapping young clone inherits the burdens of fame and wealth, and is now left alone, with only his ghosts to help him carry it. The doors open and close, "The Doors" are coming from the audio systems of the hypercars, from the speakers in the night club, from inside your head.
Cherchez la femme is always the answer, but what should one do if the femme in question lost herself in the sea of phantoms too? Who are you in this play: Siegfried or Hagen?
