The station was like an imposing castle of concrete, steel, and construction signs. Ever shifting over the past 100 years into spider-web of train tracks and serpentine cars slithering up and down the tracks. It paid little heed to the inhabitants of it.
“All workers report for your daily ration. You have done well, gentlemen.”
Gentlemen, despite the fact that most of the workers nowadays were female. Then again, it was just one of those things were the words employed carried more weight than the implications behind those words. At any rate, she wasn’t a worker so what was the point of worrying about it all? She liked to wander through the columns instead of the main walkway. It was never crowded at this hour, but it was nice think that she was walking down a palace or some forest.
The space between reminded her of a time that she could not possibly remember, but knew to be true.