The Tram arrives at the very top of the central tower.

It is implausibly tall and now you are on top of it.

You get off the Tram.

This little rooftop civilization seems unnecessarily large. Especially considering that much of it is empty.

There is a fountain in front of you with glass pipes leading out across the entire plaza through its bottom, snaking through inadvisably glass floors.

The inadvisable glass floors are annoyingly beautiful.

They also feel concerning.

Directly in front of you, on the other side of the fountain, is some kind of 1800s miner’s shaft in the exact center of what is very conspicuously a very new building.

You look to your left. 

It is almost startling.

The sign is much bigger and much closer than it should be.

It reads:

“WELCOME TO THE CITY THAT REFUSES TO EXPLAIN ITSELF.”

…in respectable, ornately carved fine wood with what might be gold inlays.

Immediately beneath the visibly authorized letters, someone who was almost certainly not involved in the original creation of the sign has carved:

“…where everything is already on fire.”

You look beyond the sign.

Stairs with a little gate and an electronic keypad locking it in front of them.

You look to your right.

Startling again: there is a woman staring at you.

Not like… staring staring. 

But you looked to your right and she’s already looking at you.

She’s sitting in a lounge chair next to a kiosk.

She smiles at you.

The kiosk reads:

VISITOR ORIENTATION