passed something nearby in the water, a large, towering length of steel. I frowned. What was that, and why had it been built into the middle of the river like this? There was another in the distance.
The tops of a suspension bridge’s towers , I realized, spotting wires trailing down into the water. The entire bridge had been sunk.
Or … the water had risen.
“Sparks,” I whispered. “We’re never going to get off the open water, are we? She’s sunk the city.”
“Yes,” Prof said.
I was stunned. I’d heard that Regalia had raised the water level around Manhattan, but this was far beyond what I’d taken that to mean. That bridge had probably once loomed a hundred feet or more above the river; now it was beneath the surface, only its support towers visible.
I turned and looked at the water we’d crossed. Now I could see a subtle slope to the water. The water bulged here, and we had to move up at an incline to approach Babilar, as if we were climbing a hill of water. How bizarre. As we drew closer to thecity itself, I saw that the entire city was indeed sunken. Skyscrapers rose like stone sentries from the waters, the streets having become waterways.
As I took in the strange sight, I realized something even odder. The glowing lights I’d seen on our approach didn’t come out of the windows of the skyscrapers; they came from the walls of the skyscrapers. Light shone in patches, bright and fluorescent, like the illumination from an emergency glowstick.
Glowing paint? That was what it seemed to be. I held to the side of the boat, frowning. This was not what I had expected. “Where are they getting their electricity?” I asked over the line.
“They aren’t,” Val said in my ear, whispering but fully audible to me. “There’s no electricity in the city other than in our own hidden base.”
“But the lights! How do they work?”
Suddenly the sides of our boat began to glow. I jumped, looking down. The glow came on like a dimmed light that slowly gained strength. Blue … paint . The side of the boat had been spraypainted. That was what was on the buildings too. Spraypaint … graffiti. In all its various colors, the graffiti was glowing vibrantly, like colored moss.
“How do the lights work?” Val said. “I wish I knew.” She slowed the boat, and we sailed between two large buildings. Their tops glowed and, squinting, I made out spraypainted boards rimming the roofs. They shone with vibrant reds, oranges, greens.
“Welcome to Babylon Restored, David,” Prof said from the prow. “The world’s greatest enigma.”
10
VAL cut the motor and handed oars to me, Mizzy, and Exel, keeping one for herself. The four of us took up rowing duty. We floated out from between the two taller buildings and approached a series of much lower structures, their tops only a few feet above the water.
They might have once been small apartment buildings, now submerged except for the uppermost floor or so of each. People lived on the roofs, mostly in tents—vibrant, colorful tents that glowed from the spraypaint casually marking them with symbols and designs. Some of the paintings were beautiful while others displayed no skill whatsoever. I even saw some glows beneath the water—graffiti that had been flooded over. So old spraypaint glowed as well as newer paintings like the ones atop the skyscrapers.
The city was so alive . Lines strung between poles hung with drying clothing. Children sat on the sides of the lowest buildings, kicking their legs in the water, watching us pass. A man rowed a small barge past us—it looked like it was constructed out of a bunch of wooden doors lashed together. Each had been spraypainted with circles of different colors.
After the lonely, empty trip here, I was shocked by the sudden sense of overwhelming activity. So many people. Thousands of them in little villages on the roofs of sunken buildings. As we moved farther into the city, I realized that these tents and buildings
The tops of a suspension bridge’s towers , I realized, spotting wires trailing down into the water. The entire bridge had been sunk.
Or … the water had risen.
“Sparks,” I whispered. “We’re never going to get off the open water, are we? She’s sunk the city.”
“Yes,” Prof said.
I was stunned. I’d heard that Regalia had raised the water level around Manhattan, but this was far beyond what I’d taken that to mean. That bridge had probably once loomed a hundred feet or more above the river; now it was beneath the surface, only its support towers visible.
I turned and looked at the water we’d crossed. Now I could see a subtle slope to the water. The water bulged here, and we had to move up at an incline to approach Babilar, as if we were climbing a hill of water. How bizarre. As we drew closer to thecity itself, I saw that the entire city was indeed sunken. Skyscrapers rose like stone sentries from the waters, the streets having become waterways.
As I took in the strange sight, I realized something even odder. The glowing lights I’d seen on our approach didn’t come out of the windows of the skyscrapers; they came from the walls of the skyscrapers. Light shone in patches, bright and fluorescent, like the illumination from an emergency glowstick.
Glowing paint? That was what it seemed to be. I held to the side of the boat, frowning. This was not what I had expected. “Where are they getting their electricity?” I asked over the line.
“They aren’t,” Val said in my ear, whispering but fully audible to me. “There’s no electricity in the city other than in our own hidden base.”
“But the lights! How do they work?”
Suddenly the sides of our boat began to glow. I jumped, looking down. The glow came on like a dimmed light that slowly gained strength. Blue … paint . The side of the boat had been spraypainted. That was what was on the buildings too. Spraypaint … graffiti. In all its various colors, the graffiti was glowing vibrantly, like colored moss.
“How do the lights work?” Val said. “I wish I knew.” She slowed the boat, and we sailed between two large buildings. Their tops glowed and, squinting, I made out spraypainted boards rimming the roofs. They shone with vibrant reds, oranges, greens.
“Welcome to Babylon Restored, David,” Prof said from the prow. “The world’s greatest enigma.”
10
VAL cut the motor and handed oars to me, Mizzy, and Exel, keeping one for herself. The four of us took up rowing duty. We floated out from between the two taller buildings and approached a series of much lower structures, their tops only a few feet above the water.
They might have once been small apartment buildings, now submerged except for the uppermost floor or so of each. People lived on the roofs, mostly in tents—vibrant, colorful tents that glowed from the spraypaint casually marking them with symbols and designs. Some of the paintings were beautiful while others displayed no skill whatsoever. I even saw some glows beneath the water—graffiti that had been flooded over. So old spraypaint glowed as well as newer paintings like the ones atop the skyscrapers.
The city was so alive . Lines strung between poles hung with drying clothing. Children sat on the sides of the lowest buildings, kicking their legs in the water, watching us pass. A man rowed a small barge past us—it looked like it was constructed out of a bunch of wooden doors lashed together. Each had been spraypainted with circles of different colors.
After the lonely, empty trip here, I was shocked by the sudden sense of overwhelming activity. So many people. Thousands of them in little villages on the roofs of sunken buildings. As we moved farther into the city, I realized that these tents and buildings
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