The City

The elevators work. Lunch arrives upstairs in insulated boxes. Freight comes in from the plains, and a delivery vehicle waits while children exercise their astonishing confidence in a functioning street. For Rowan, newly employed at Amalgamated, the city is a place where his competence has found something large enough to be useful to.

It stands east of the Rocky Mountains. The sea never reached it during the Retreat. People did, along with freight diverted from broken ports, records from displaced institutions, and demands on every pipe and hospital bed. Preparation bought time. It could not prevent the arrivals from exceeding the plans.

Now the region has grain to spare in seasons helped by more dependable rain. Some of the old reception settlements are being dismantled as their residents move into permanent homes. Gardens appear in the spaces between the departing walls. That mixture of provisional shelter and new planting belongs to the city’s present as much as its towers do.

The recovery is good enough that a young man can enjoy his work without waking each morning inside an emergency. The people who kept the water moving can tell terrible stories over coffee and expect someone to laugh. They have earned that distance from the worst years.

Walk far enough from the offices, though, and the comprehensive view begins to acquire names and doorways. A city contains more relationships than its administrative records can hold.