In the purple-tinted post-apocalypse the psychic twenty-somethings who somehow or other caused all this make amends as best they can, taking more refugees into their protectorate of Whitechapel and putting in the work and innovation to build up the infrastructure. It helps that they all seem to be more-or-less geniuses in their chosen fields. However a grisly murder and some ethically dubious behaviour by a particularly rapey Feakangel threatens to disrupt the jolly barn-building and marching towards a more secure and stable future.