“I didn’t bring you boys up here to discuss the weather,” Mortimor said. He leaned close so they could hear him clearly over the patter of rain on the back of the stairwell. “Follow me.”

Arthur shrugged at Cole and raised his eyebrows. The two of them turned and followed Mortimor around the stairwell and into the driving rain. Cole looked down at his feet as he walked so we wouldn’t feel so dizzy. He noticed the top of the building was coated with a rubbery surface, probably put there to provide traction through the film of water in addition to keeping the rain out of the structure beneath.

As they walked directly into the sideways torrent, the large drops of water popped up and down his chest, sounding much like the incessant gunfire of the Academy’s rifle range. Cole kept his head low and marched with the others toward the edge of the flat, rectangular roof, the size and shape of which reminded him of boring office buildings.

As they neared the edge, however, Cole realized the place was far more interesting than that. The entire structure was moving. Or maybe the ground below was simply sliding by beneath them. Either way, as Cole stopped a meter from the edge and looked down, Mortimor and Arthur had to reach out and grab his elbows to steady him before the vertigo sent him reeling.

“Don’t get too close,” Mortimor warned. He and Arthur pulled Cole away from the edge.

Cole found it hard to turn away from the sight of the land rushing by. The world below was a field of mud covered by a skim coat of water—an infinite, brownish mirror. The lowest layers of rain skipped right across it, leaving furrows like waterfowl coming in for a landing. And all of it slid beneath the building, giving it the appearance of a dirty, rippled ocean viewed from the bow of a steaming ship. Cole’s stomach began to protest all the myriad cues of motion that belied the solid footing beneath him.

“Best not to even look at it,” Mortimor said.

Cole agreed. He turned away from the sight and put his back to the rain, huddling close to the other two men.

“Then why bring me up here?” he asked.

“So we won’t be overheard,” Mortimor said.

“What, like spies?”

Cole looked to Arthur, whose grin had been replaced with tight, flat lips. “Is he serious?”

“We have a few embedded within the Luddites—we’re pretty sure they have some here. It’s complicated, but a lot of soldiers have defected over the years. It’s easy to forget why you’re here after a while. Some people flip just to see if they’ll be more comfortable on the other side.”

“Or because they’ve grown too comfortable,” Mortimor suggested. “Some just get bored.”

“So why are you here?” Cole asked. “And what’s up with this place? Is this building on wheels?” He concentrated on his feet, trying to sense any movement.