Atlas stays in my backpack on the two-hour walk to the train station. Dawn breaks an hour in.
When I arrive, the train station has a serene stillness about it. Birds perch on the canopy. My train (the only route that still goes through this station) won’t arrive for an hour, and as the time approaches a few people arrive at the station, talking in hushed tones.
The train gradually fills up as it moves towards civilization. The railway starts out by winding through a mountain range, but by the time it’s passed the muddy Agamon River the railway’s carving dead straight through floodplain like an inhuman metal scar. I idly take note of the sun arcing across the sky, distant skyscrapers stretching across the horizon, the sound shifting as the train slows down for each stop.
We start passing other trains on the way, too; the surroundings change so much as we move towards the city. It’s so busy all the time.
It’s hard to choose an apartment, and Atlas vetoes a couple, but eventually I settle for one in the city’s center high above an intersection between two thoroughfares.
When I move in, sodium streetlights flicker on as night falls, dotting the ground below me.