30. Power Plant
Fortunately, the power plant was located on the southern side of Tropical Night City.
Our carriage, which had derailed and was drifting south, was already heading in that direction, even without switching to autopilot.
Soon enough, we arrived at our destination.
"You have arrived at your destination," the carriage's announcement roused me from sleep mode, and I peered out the window.
A swarm of yellow glowing orbs, like countless fireflies, filled the purple darkness and leaped into my field of vision.
I couldn't help but stand from my seat. As always when beholding something beautiful, I grasped Jinri's hand. She squeezed back firmly.
Hand in hand, we leaned forward, gazing intently at the power plant's full view.
Before us stretched a structure so meticulously designed it seemed to have taken billions of years to perfect, with not even a 0.0000001-nanometer margin of error.
Fishbone-like antennas immediately caught the eye.
These pure white antennas exuded an aura beyond mere color, something indescribable by the concept of hue.
Aligned at precisely ten meters in height, they stood in flawless rows, as if arranged by an obsessive craftsman with a ruler, spaced with impeccable precision.
The rows seemed to extend endlessly to the horizon.
At their tips, decorations resembling hairpins a girl in a cheongsam might use to tie her hair in a bun—or perhaps simply cotton swabs—adorned them. They emitted light with the disciplined rhythm of a soldier cautiously sending telegraphs, flickering in sync with the quiet breathing of a whale.
Above, a golden aurora shimmered, swaying gently like curtains in a breeze.
This curtain completely blocked out the clamor and dazzling fireworks of Tropical Night City, creating a space of profound silence, even more tranquil than the hospital examination room Jinri had taken me to.
The power plant itself was an expansive space, like a highway rest area.
No, it boasted an area roughly 176 times that of such a parking lot—an unimaginable vastness. The fishbone antennas filled every inch of this space.
Our carriage floated above it like a drone.
As if 80% of our consciousness still lingered in sleep mode, we lay on the carriage as if it were a bed, gazing at the power plant—the heart of Tropical Night City—with the dreamy sensation of viewing a landscape in a dream.
"Where's the control tower?" Jinri asked the carriage in a soft, sweet voice, as if rolling a piece of candy in her mouth for years.
"I will guide you," the carriage replied, moving smoothly as if transporting prey swallowed into its stomach.
Gliding over the fishbone antennas, it was bathed in faint purple light.
The interior filled with a purple haze, like distilled water.
Glancing out the window while moving through the carriage, I saw a building emerge in the distance.
It was an utterly ordinary building.
A 365-story structure, the kind that might house a major corporation's offices, exuding a faint presence due to its sheer ordinariness, making it oddly hard to describe.
"We won't get anywhere unless we go in there," I muttered.
The carriage quietly agreed, "That is correct."
"Then hurry up and drop us off there," I said.
"Understood."
The carriage gradually picked up speed.
Then, its undercarriage—no, the bottom of the vehicle—began to transform, as if turning into a grid. The floor beneath our feet slowly shrank and vanished. At the same time, the handrails lowered, descending to a height where we could naturally slip our arms through.
Without anyone's instruction, as if prompted by the carriage itself, Jinri and I passed our arms through the handrail loops, securing ourselves as if with safety bars.
The moment we did, the floor beneath us completely disappeared. Our bare feet lost their support, dangling in the void.
Below us stretched a rippling sea of electricity, crackling as it enveloped the entire power plant.