The Spire was a needle of obsidian that seemed to sew the earth to the sky. It wasn't built; it was grown—a lattice of carbon nanotubes and smart-glass that shimmered with a dark, oily light.
"The elevators are dead weight," I panted, leaning against the cold base of the structure. I could feel the building humming beneath my palms. It wasn't the erratic vibration of the rusted mall; this was a deep, subsonic thrum. It was the sound of a planet-sized computer thinking.
"Leo, look at the sky," Nix whispered, her voice trembling.
High above, the clouds were beginning to swirl into a perfect, geometric eye. Dr. Thorne wasn't just sending soldiers anymore. She was using the Spire’s own weather-defense system to create a localized vacuum. She was going to suffocate the "rot" before it could
