This makes no sense. It just doesn′t. I know this city, probably know it better than every fucking act-like-they-own-the-place suit at Kalpa, and this is plain not how it looks. There cannot be houses here. It- ″Nic, are you okay?″ I snort. Never once been quite this close to buying into any of her theories. Hell, most of the time it doesn′t even seem like she does that herself, though you always get the sense that she doesn′t believe anything else either. Truth is faker than fiction. Not a hard bar to clear but still unsettling. It doesn′t make sense. ″No″ ″Well, what do you think they are? Can′t be homes, right? No one would go through that much trouble to hide normal buildings. Also it′s too quiet, so I′m thinking laboratories maybe. They could be breeding something.″ ″Like what?″ ″Like homunculi! No, wait, that′s boring. Bio-weapons! Or new rats!″ ″New- What′s wrong with old rats?″ ″Nothing. What was wrong with Rattus Rattus other than not being big and vicious enough to keep up with the competition? I just happen to think that the days of rattus norvegicus are equally numbered as soon as something worse comes around. It′s the circle of life. New rats for a new eschaton. Why wouldn′t they be working on that?″ ″But... Look, I′m sure these are normal houses. A bit fancy, but normal. If someone was trying to hide this neighborhood we wouldn′t have seen it from the train, right? And there′s a street leading here. All very very normal.″ I can′t fault her for not buying it, I don′t either. At this rate I′ll seem like the conspiracy theorist and that despite the competing explanation involving government manufacture of improved rodents for the hell of it. You don′t stumble upon a new neighborhood in the city you′ve spent all your life in, especially not if you′ve spent your life like the two of us. Admittedly we do stumble upon new rats rather often with that lifestyle, but they don′t get worse exactly, only more expected, mundane... Maybe that is worse. ″We took a whole day to find that street and all the other ones kind of weirdly bend around it in a way where it seems like they′re going straight even though they aren′t. You′ve acknowledged this. It′s very obvious that there′s a secret when you try too hard to keep it, like with area 51, so pretending like you aren′t hiding anything is actually a really good way to run a cover-up.″ ″I need to sit down″ ″Oh, do you think that camera in the Leviton was there to see if someone would spot these buildings? So they can weed out dissidents? Or maybe only a chosen one can-″ ″Okay.″ ″Okay what?″ ″You wanna check if they′re secret labs? Let′s find out! We know how to get here now, so we′ll just come back when it′s dark and break in. There, the big one with the hedge. Worst case scenario it′s a normal upper-class home and we can secure our existence for a while, which isn′t so bad, I think. You in?″ There′s no way anyone smiles brighter than her. It′s addictive. People have never accused me of a lack of curiosity, but that alone would hardly have been enough to send me mapping out streets for upwards of twenty hours. Doubly so when the blurry view we had from the train could have easily caused some kind of optical illusion. Fuck I′m still not even sure it isn′t one of those. Like the vanishing point of a drawing, but instead of everything converging into one spot you′re drawn away from it through the layout. All roads lead to Rome and from here. Walking the same way back it′s exceedingly obvious that this is the correct, natural direction to be going in, somehow, which continues to fuck with my head. Alice keeps talking about warped spacetime and perception-altering microchips dissolved in the water supply, but I don′t really make an effort to listen. Not for the words at least, just for the sounds. Reassuring despite the nature of what she′s saying. It′s hard to describe, but she′s not someone who ever makes you feel safe at all. In fact, Alice makes you feel more vulnerable because of her presence and how fragile she seems. But at the same time, she kind of makes the precarity feel okay. Like it′s not really worth thinking about, and I prefer that. I learned to distrust safety. Only when we reach the old railway bridge do I stop looking behind me every few seconds to make sure the road is still there, and that despite having reached familiar terrain a while ago. I don′t know how far away we′d have to get for the wrinkles this addition has caused in my mental map to become unnoticeable, but at least it′s marginally better here. Only slightly wavy in a way that seems to trace cracks along the tunnel walls where generations of taggers have left their mark in paint and carvings. Alice is dragging her fingers along the concrete as always, stopping temporarily when she spots something that might be a new signature or symbol. More of a formality. The girl must have memorized every single graffiti in town, murals and splotches alike. I′m just about to touch the tunnel myself and trace after her when Alice abruptly turns towards me. ″They′re the names of heroes″, she says confidently. Might be the first time her strange way of walking, strides far too cartoonishly long for her statue, has imbued something with a gravity of sorts. Like a naïve little sister proudly talking about how her brother is fighting in the war. We′ve likely both lost more brothers in wars than we′re comfortable counting or even comfortable remembering. It′s not something we talk about, though sometimes she says numbers at random and I get scared for a moment that that′s what she′s doing. Occasionally she says them as a greeting ″433!″, sometimes like she′s measuring the world. Steps and looks and silences. I hope she′s measuring the good things. ″What sorts of heroes?″ ″All sorts. Most fallen, but some still falling. You can tell by how fresh the paint is.″ ″Hm... Are we still falling″ ″Maybe, but I′ll call it flying, at least until the ground comes. That′s what it feels like.″ ″What if it doesn′t come?″ ″Then it really will have been flight all along, and we would have been silly to worry about the impact″ I chuckle ″Have you ever left a signature to be remembered by?″ ″No way! That would be like admitting defeat! Someone else will have to write our names. largest of all! Carved in stone beneath a monument. What′s the point in dying if we can′t even get that much?″ ″Guess we′ll have to fly a while longer then″