They ran down the corridor past all the rooms with which Proteus was familiar. The wall at the end of the corridor opened as they approached. Proteus gasped with surprise. He’d been in the hall often, no door was apparent. Now it closed soundlessly behind them. “It’s all operated from below,” Window said quickly. They were in a very small room with rock walls. Two large rocks moved back. Proteus followed Story and Window inside, and they began to climb down a very steep staircase hewn out of rock.

This time the stairs seemed endless, but the way was illuminated dimly, though Proteus saw no lamps or torches. When they’d walked downward for some time, the steps evened out until they gradually formed a rocky corridor with a downward incline. Neither Window nor Story spoke, so Proteus asked no questions. He was growing more and more excited, even while he realized that they were steadily progressing beneath the Earth’s surface. What would he find? What secret … project could there possibly be that Window and Story considered so important?

The corridor ended with a final rock door that opened for them automatically, as had the others. Now they were obviously inside a gigantic rock building of incredible age and richness. Here also the walls were lit by that same dim illumination. Drawings of animals, birds, and buildings filled the walls. Proteus eyed them with awe. They seemed alive, waiting.

Window and Story still hadn’t spoken, yet Proteus had the strangest feeling that they carried on some inner kind of dialogue. What kind of people were they, actually, he wondered? Story was approximately his age, yet sometimes she acted much older, while on other occasions she was so playful and innocent that she might have been a ten-year-old. And Window? Why did he trust Window so? Proteus shivered slightly. In this odd building, both Window and Story seemed like strangers to him.

He looked down. The rock floor here was smooth and clean, yet the air was filled with a sweet mustiness that was impossible to describe. The cleanliness itself disturbed him; it didn’t seem to be fresh, but rather, ancient; a cleanliness somehow preserved from the past. Window and Story turned into another corridor, and Proteus followed. This time Proteus paused briefly. The door before them was heavy and old. Why didn’t it creak as it opened? A series of steep upward steps led to a rock landing, and here Proteus stood motionless, unable to speak, amazed at the scene before him.