Beyond the ramp was a two-kilometer-deep shelf of parkland, irregularly spotted by copses of trees and numerous broad, flat white concrete structures, resembling thick building foundations. Beyond the parkland, a narrow lake or river about a kilometer across ran east and west completely around the chamber. A suspension bridge with tall, slender, curved towers crossed the water, set between massive concrete anchors.

The bridge pointed toward a city.

It could have been Los Angeles on a very clear day, or any other modern terrestrial city, except for the surreal exaggeration. It was bigger, more ambitious and ordered, more architecturally mature. And scattered throughout the city, like bumpers on a pinball board, were the biggest structures she had ever seen in her life. Easily four kilometers tall, they resembled upright chandeliers made of concrete, glass and shining steel. Each facet of the nearest chandelier-structure was as large as entire buildings in between. The chandelier resemblance increased as she looked up and saw them suspended from the chamber floor overhead. Across the two layers of atmosphere, fifty kilometers away, the city became beautifully unreal, like a model behind dusty glass in a museum.

Her eyes swept to either side, head swinging as if she were watching a slow tennis match between progressively taller players.

"Good morning, Mr. Lanier," said the senior officer, approaching to inspect his badge. "She's new?"

Lanier nodded. "Patricia Vasquez. Unlimited access."

"Yes, sir. General Gerhardt passed the word yesterday to expect you."

"Any activity?" Lanier asked.

"Mitchell's survey squad is going through the K mega now, at thirty degrees and six klicks."

Lanier leaned back into the cab. "The 'megas' are the big buildings," he explained. She shielded her eyes against the plasma tube, trying to see the opposite side of the chamber more clearly. She could make out parks and small lakes, systems of streets—laid out in alternating concentric circles and square blocks.

She was as far from the opposite wall as Long Beach was from Los Angeles. Despite its scale, the city was definitely human-built.

Lanier stepped up on the running board and asked if she would like to stretch her legs before they continued.

"What do you call it?" Patricia asked.

"Its name is Alexandria."

"You named it?"

Lanier shook his head. "No."

"We're going all the way to the seventh chamber today?" she asked.

"If you're up to it."

"How long do we stay here?"

"A few hours at most. I want you to get a look at the library before we continue."

"A library?"

"Indeed," Lanier replied. "One of the highlights."

She settled back in her seat, eyes wide. "Is the city deserted?"

"Most of us think it is. We've had scattered reports, but I put it up to nerves. Boojums, the security team calls them. Ghosts. We've never found a live Stoner."

"You've found dead ones?"

"Quite a number. There are mausoleums in this chamber, and in the fourth chamber. The main cemetery in Alexandria is at two-six degrees and ten kilometers. Do you understand the coordinate system?"