I hadn’t been traveling down the tunnel toward Generatia for long when I noticed the path was beginning to slope gently upwards. Presently the mud gave way to solid ground, and the dirt walls to something rather like stone on all sides. And then there was nowhere else to go. The tunnel had come to an end.
I held the lightorb closer to the stone. It hadn’t been quarried or chiseled, it was too uniform for that. Could it be? I had only ever heard of konkreet in stories as a child. They said the ancients had power to pour rocks like a liquid and mold it into any shape they desired. Weapons, pathways, even entire houses, poured from buckets like water.
Greater surprises than konkreet awaited me in the city of Generatia.
I looked above me to see a wooden trapdoor not unlike the one in Bag Man’s hole. I couldn’t open it; it was locked from the other side. Cautiously, I knocked.
After several long moments I heard footsteps approaching.
The door flew open and light streamed in. “Who are you?” demanded a voice.