The Fall of the City of Steel

A Taste of the Air

Arriving at the concrete building without incident, I realized that, for the first time, I would have to reach James's workshop on my own.

The iron trapdoor was well hidden; I had to check each corner for it, because the darkness and the architecture alone hid it from my eyes. Once I reached the door, I tried to lift with my right arm, only to realize why the crew usually delegated this task to Rico. Spreading my feet and gripping the handle with both hands, I grunted as I hoisted the ponderous door open. The loud clang of the iron against the wall assaulted my ears, and, when my senses cleared, I realized, to my embarrassment, that the door gave me more trouble than it ever gave Emilia. I reconsidered membership on the college sports team.

Halfway down the ladder, I picked up on the scent of tobacco smoke and looked down. At the bottom, I could barely make out the image of Rico sitting on the edge of the handcart, casually swaying his legs as he passed the time with a cigarette. Surely, I thought, he must have heard the iron door, but he did not look up for me. For a reason I would never understand, I decided against calling out to him.

Only at the sound of my feet hitting the gravel on the tunnel floor did Rico turn to face me.

"Hey there," he greeted, warmly but wanly. "It's just you this time?"

"Only me," I confirmed, boarding the handcart. "Who else were you expecting?"

"Emilia told me that Jerry might me coming along," Rico clarified, his speech slurred by the cigarette in his mouth. "She also told me that you might not let him come."

"I didn't," I insisted, taking one of the handcart's handles. "I wish with all of my heart that I could, but I couldn't; he just didn't want to come. I think you will be seeing him eventually, though."

"If I may," Rico began, taking the other handle. He paused as we pumped, settling into a rhythm. "If I may," he tried again, "Do you know from experience that your little brother is too young to get his hands dirty like this?"

"I do not..." I reluctantly admitted.

"Maybe it's worth a test, then," Rico put forth. "Just... maybe not like this. Not at first, eh?"

I glanced up at Rico, silently relieved to have a speck of sympathy from someone. He kept his head downturned, apparently unaware of how much it meant to me simply to have my troubles understood.

"Yes," I agreed, after a pause. "But he lacks the patience for that. He sees me involved in something shady, and he wants to be involved, too. He refuses to think beyond that, and urging him to be cautious only makes him more self-endangering in defiance."

"Kids can be like that," Rico agreed. "But I don't see that as something to be pounded out of them. There's a reason they're made that way."

"Maybe there is," I desisted quietly, "maybe there is."

By the end of the tunnel, we had settled into such a smooth rhythm that, when we reached the siding, Rico had to call out to me to make me stop.

"There you are," Emilia greeted, getting up from examining something at James' workshop. "James has been by the plane waiting for somewhere around half an hour now."

"Why?" I asked.

"You were supposed to get here at Three," explained Tony, who stood next to Emilia. He tapped his wristwatch. "I think you left at three."

I stopped dead for a moment, realizing this. "My apologies," I softly excused. "Which way to the plane?"

"This way," Tony directed, walking past me into the thickest part of the forest. "We would have a beaten path here, but we don't want the plane to be discovered, even if someone finds this workshop."