The evening air was finally cool. After the punishing heat of the afternoon, the dark sky brought a little relief, though the city still shimmered faintly with the leftover warmth clinging to the pavement.
Just a little while ago, Vyan had stepped out of the towering building—twenty stories of solid regret—and immediately muttered a string of curses under his breath.
"Who in their right mind makes a building with that many damn stairs…?" he had hissed, wiping the sweat from his brow. His legs were aching. His lungs weren't pleased. And his pride? That was currently gnawing a hole in his ego.
That was when he had noticed the others—people stepping out of a metal box attached to the building's side. A small black screen blinked numbers above it. Up… down… again up.
Realization dawned slowly and then hit him all at once.
"…You mean… that thing moves?"
