A useless death. A small, fleshy monument to futility.

There is no 'occasion'. Nothing has happened. All is right with the world.

No parade, and no funeral, either.

Milk fills the glass of his eyes.

It's only when he starts running that you realise how inebriated he truly is.

THIS HABIT OF RELEASING THE PEOPLE'S ENEMIES IN YOUR POSSESSION WOULD MAKE EVEN THE MOST FORGIVING ETHICS COMMITTEE QUESTION YOUR ALLEGIANCES.

LICH OR NOT, THAT'S ONE OF THE PEOPLE'S ENEMIES YOU JUST RELEASED. EVEN THE MOST FORGIVING ETHICS COMMITTEE WOULD CALL YOUR ALLEGIANCES INTO QUESTION.

Nose to the air. Take in the scent.

The mandibles on the stag beetle are fully the size of its body. Obvious physical superiority.

He's none-too-discreetly hiding a cigar-sized joint under his wrist.

Don't be distracted by the tiger beetle's iridescent shell, look at it's eyes -- the eyes of a killer.

Eyes strained from low light. Fingers blistered.

No calendars, no clocks. Days bleeding into one another; waves eating the shoreline.

The book flashes open for a moment -- you see that the margins are black with annotations furiously scribbled out on almost every page.

Something feline in his eyes, too. An intelligence, but utterly dissimilar from any kind you know.

An equal mix of 'old people' and 'immunity to fun'.

Ramses was white lithium grease and hash. Vespar: leather, salt, sour pear. Karolina, often up programming all night, wafted coffee wherever she went.

Also: Frigid, judgmental, and eminently punch-able.

They only bloom at dawn -- most of the day, nearby buildings block out the light.

When you were quite small, there was a jasmine plant that trailed over the neighbour's fence. Knowing they could be made into tea, you took a flower and popped it in your mouth one autumn morning.

It tasted like perfume -- floral, bitter. The flavour lingered on your tongue all day.

You could build a garland of the small white blooms, wear it in your hair. Trail a path of perfume behind you.

Then, whenever you get zeroed out, she'll have to spend the rest of her life avoiding perfume counters, tea rooms, and community gardens.

The smell is ecstatic, overwhelming.

Advanced dog technique.

They'll bloom again tomorrow morning, so long as the sun is out.

An abrupt loss in hand-eye coordination -- in Ramses, who had the hands of a surgeon.

Overhead, something stirs. It has been waiting.

A Wachbann door. Double-skin boron-alloy, tungsten-carbide backing, sixty millimetre core. High-end prison-grade.

The classes may mingle during the day, but by evening they sort themselves back where they belong.

Up there, your heart beats twice as fast and half as hard.

RISE UP, YOU WRETCHED OF THE MOON. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT YOUR FREEZE-DRIED RATIONS AND THE RECYCLED AIR IN YOUR LUNGS.

A preview of coming attractions.

All around, movement clings to structure. Sightlines, bottlenecks, exits. People move as water does around rocks. A map has begun to emerge.

We made it back. Off the shelf and back in the current. No forms, no cold offices. This is how it's supposed to be. Noise, people -- chances.

The remains of a community that was traded for a single shot at the sky.

It keeps them well-concealed, evidently. Sounds familiar.

Forget the frame. Look at the glass. Something's off about it. Enhance!

Diameter in relation to structure... a rough capacity of twelve-to-fifteen litres per second.

Circle the place. Sniff the crevices. Find its soft underbelly.

Outside, the murmur of water is all but gone.

Sequential logic applies. Operating the controls in a specific order will lower the water outside.

Next: switch, then lever.

Next: the switch.

First step confirmed. Sluice cycle initiated. Next: either switch or lever.

The switch feels right.

Best guess: toggle for a humidity sensor, or pressure relief for a bypass pipe. Ignore it -- it's irrelevant.

No haptic feedback, no audible change. Best ignore this one going forward.

This is it. Now hold down the red button.

The groan of shifting iron, muffled by masonry. Now, let the water flow.

Checks