Sunlight crested just as I left my cabin, the door hissing slowly shut behind me. I stood a moment to witness the morning, then began the walk south. My feet padded along the dust colored path and I hopped over the six small protrusions that had been revealed by my daily erosion.
Ahead loomed the scaffold and stairs, which rattled as I ascended to look across the fields. Sharp white spires sliced into the sky, four east, four west, and again I wondered at their origin and impenetrable makeup. The rest of the village left them alone, but without curiosity we would never have found the radios, or the rail.
A red pad blinked steadily in a booth and I pounded it with a fist, bringing back the shuttle. It would take several minutes, so I began chiseling new blocks for the stone bridge connecting to the next scaffold. Today it would be completed, and we could safely walk to the shuttle station.
On cue, the purple lights of the car rumbled to a halt, always slightly unnerving as though it was staring at me.