I wonder, as they tug me along, what he could mean. It's not as if seeing Matt again after all these years was enough of a surprise for me, I guess.
They lead me down some stairs and into a utility room. There's a passage at the back, and we walk along a narrow gangplank. All around us is the underbelly of the city. There's sleek duct work above my head. It's low hum is barely audible.
At the end of the gangplank is a heavy black door. Chris opens it and I'm shoved through and into a wide room with a domed ceiling. Like everything in New Rome, the room is clean and shines with newness. But the large floor is covered in a riot of color. Bed sheets, tarps, and bolts of fabric are draped in peaks. Almost as if...
"There are people living here?" My question echoes into the vastness of the r
