Chapter 7, Bridge

Aching and on shaky knees, I exited the elevator shaft. I wasn’t sure how many stories I had descended; it felt like too many, but hopefully, I was right on target near the bridge. Light came creeping in from a distant bank of windows, allowing me to see a small common area spread before me. Ceramic tiling cooled my calloused feet as I looked at the pale cream walls in the sparse light. They were covered in streaks of dull mildew. A host station in forgotten wood welcomed guests to a restaurant and a large sign overhead gave directions to the nearest services.

My muscles burned from the climb down, sending dull aching pain through my hips with each step. The elevator shafts had been my friend and enemy all these years, my only means of vertical travel among the dead skyscrapers. Most only had proper stairs for the first few hundred stories and then the physical limitations to floor plans meant elevators were the only means of accessing the highest peaks. And now that there was no power, all that remained were the ladders.

Each building had its personality, its own palette of materials that told the story of who had built it and for whom. This one had been expensive once, with its marble and ceramic, designed to impress the wealthy who traveled between towers without ever touching the ground below.