“It starts with telling some goblin about all the benefits of working at night, because you want to help him. He listens to you, probably yawns, and waves it off as nonsense. Then the funny part starts — you get going, and start trying to convince him you’re right instead of telling him to go fuck himself. Finally, you convince him. So he asks you to wake him up at night, bring him to the job site, and then he makes you help with the work. You do it, but he’s still not sure and wants to try again to be certain. The next day the whole thing repeats itself. You’re covered in dirt and sweat, barely able to finish your job and help the other guy, too. Only then does he reluctantly admit that there
“You’re one pessimistic bastard!”
“I’m not pessimistic, I’m just being realistic. That’s why smart goblins like ourselves keep a low profile and do their job quietly. Since, after all, we walk alone at night with no witnesses. Who knows, maybe someone you shared your vision with will realize your sandals would fit him perfectly, and he jumps you around some dark corner?”
“Yeah, that’s how it goes in the Outskirts.”
Soon we were deep into unknown territory. Unknown to me, that is. I slowed down and kept Yorka from going too fast.
“I’ve been here before!” She tried to reassure me. “Many times. I’ll lead the way.”
I nodded in agreement, but still didn’t speed up. I had to look around.
This place was… different. The same hallways, paths and walkways, but at the same time everything was slightly different. It looked older. The metal walls were tarnished, the ceilings weren’t as high as in the hallways where we lived — almost three feet lower. The solid metal floor had grates spaced evenly throughout, and air streams surged up from underneath them. Each of the streams was surprisingly different. One was humming and warm, with the faint scent of dust and iron. Walking over it was pleasant, and I even took a moment to warm up. The second one blasted out a jet of ice-cold air that made us shiver. The next stream was weak, and carried the scent of something edible, but we couldn’t tell what it was. These hallways had more turns than ours, and there were strange bulges on the walls and ceiling. I couldn’t figure out what they were for. The heated wall ledges, so well-loved by us goblins and so good for warming tired bones, were nowhere to be seen.
“What’s taking you so long, goblin?” Yorka was losing her patience.
“This is a new environment for me,” I replied readily. “I have to learn every detail.”
“Well, take your time and learn, then, I guess.” Yorka pouted. She couldn’t wait to get to work.
“Feel free to ask me questions,” I said. “It’ll help pass the time.”
“Okay! So what exactly are you trying to learn about?”
“The surroundings, how this place is designed, every tiny detail. Traces of what used to be here but was torn down. And things that are new, that weren’t here when it was built.”
“Well, I see the same old hallways. There’s nothing out of the ordinary here.”
“See that?” I pointed at the rail passing over our heads, where the watcher domes would travel.
“Yeah. Mother’s Path.”
I winced and groaned. “Stop that!”
“Okay.”
“Just compare the rail to the walls and the floor! See? It was put up much later. There were no rails or domes here originally. But over there,” I pointed, “and there — we’ve passed ten spots like that already — there are stains and sealed holes on the wall right under the ceiling. There used to be some kind of equipment mounted there, and I’m almost sure that it was surveillance cameras.”
“So what? The system used to watch us on camera, then they mounted the rails and got the domes running. What does it matter? It’s still the same thing, just an upgrade! Progress!”
“You may be right,” I agreed. “But every tiny detail could prove useful. Look, over there, at the entrance to the next hall or whatever it is. Do you see that?”
“You mean those three marks on the doorway?”
“Yeah. That’s from a door, there used to be a door here. Going by the size and the number of fixtures, it was a pretty heavy one, too. There are sealed-up holes in the top and the bottom of the jamb. There was definitely a door here, Yorka. Look at the wall next to it — you can see where the door used to bang against the wall, that dent from the lock. A heavy, manually operated lever lock.”
“So? Oh…” She fell to thinking.
