The Spire elevator smelled of cold metal and tightly enclosed vertical space.
Vane stood in the center of the glass capsule, watching the island fall away beneath him as he ascended into the pale dawn. The residential tier, the sprawling stone roofs of the Academic District, the winding ascent of the spiral hill—all of it shrank into geometric miniatures against the flat, grey January light. Because it was only the third hour, the hill path below was entirely deserted.
'No one is awake yet,' Vane thought, leaning slightly against the reinforced glass. 'Or they are, and they're just waiting to see what I do.'
The elevator shuddered to a smooth halt. The heavy glass doors slid open, and he stepped instantly into a wall of suffocating humidity.
