the doorway threw off a bit of light, but the passage got darker as we walked upward and only dim natural light glimmered. As we climbed, I noticed dampness in the air and a musty smell growing fouler as we got closer to the top.
“I know you’ve already seen some new and strange things in the last month, but I want to prepare you for the people you’re about to see. These catacombs are a haven of sorts for people whose gifts or mutations are more extreme. For physical and or emotional reasons, these people don’t feel they’re able to lead normal lives, integrated into society. I’m cautioning you because it can be embarrassing to gasp or stare.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m not the sort of person that stares, but I have a feeling you’re about to show me things I’ve never seen.”
“I also don’t want to alarm you with the conditions here. Innoviro has made every effort to make these people comfortable, but you can understand that some individuals reject anything they might view as charity.”
“So they’re basically camping out in a sewer?”
“Put bluntly, yes. Rubin keeps an eye on this area for me. He makes every effort to fit in, although he has an apartment of his own.”
“Will he be there today?”
“Probably not. I’ve sent him on an out-of-town errand and he’s gone by now.”
We reached an arch at the top of the stairs. I followed him through the open doorway and the unpleasant chill that had been wafting down the stairs evolved into a forceful reek. Decaying fish, seaweed, salt, excrement, and diesel fuel made the seaside sewer location unmistakable.
The sound of running water and muffled voices increased as we walked along a wet sidewalk that hugged the wall of the expanding tunnel. The corridor opened into a central room, very dimly lit by small shafts of sunlight high above and a few small fires in barrels and makeshift pits. I tried to guess what street we were under and where. How did a place like this remain undisturbed? I’d seen a shelter a few blocks north along the waterfront at the point where downtown transitioned to a light industrial area. If someone living in a sewer frequented a doorway in that neighborhood, they would probably blend effortlessly.
We paused at the edge of the room, unnoticed so far by the community in front of us. In total, roughly two dozen figures stood, leaned on the wall, or sat on lawn chairs and milk crates. Tents lined an open landing on the far side of the room. The moat around that little concrete island would have been charming if it didn’t have noticeable flotsam and bits of foam throughout. Other than being a hidden tent city, nothing looked out of the ordinary. I kept scanning the room, straining my eyes in the poor light. Did Ivan plan to introduce me to anyone?
Then I recognized the bouncer from the bar. Casey! That was his name. He was having an animated, yet friendly-looking conversation with a small woman around my size. He gestured with his arms, shook them, and the unbelievable happened. His scars opened wide and another set of arms flipped out. Casey’s gigantic muscular arms became four slim-sized arms in the blink of an eye. If I hadn’t been watching, I wouldn’t have known what happened. A surreal mythological character stood where a man once was. The woman he was talking to laughed and a giant red forked tongue rolled out and flicked the air. Something ruffled along the side of her neck and disappeared again, like her skin had fissures that opened and shut seamlessly.
Ivan put his hand on my shoulder and I jolted. I’d been staring. In my mind, I whispered that I was so sorry. No words came out. He gestured ahead and I followed as we approached an abandoned cardboard shelter consisting of a large floor piece and a smaller open box propped up behind it. It made my heart ache to think of someone sleeping and passing long, lonely, hungry hours on scraps of cardboard like this.
As my foot connected with the
“I know you’ve already seen some new and strange things in the last month, but I want to prepare you for the people you’re about to see. These catacombs are a haven of sorts for people whose gifts or mutations are more extreme. For physical and or emotional reasons, these people don’t feel they’re able to lead normal lives, integrated into society. I’m cautioning you because it can be embarrassing to gasp or stare.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m not the sort of person that stares, but I have a feeling you’re about to show me things I’ve never seen.”
“I also don’t want to alarm you with the conditions here. Innoviro has made every effort to make these people comfortable, but you can understand that some individuals reject anything they might view as charity.”
“So they’re basically camping out in a sewer?”
“Put bluntly, yes. Rubin keeps an eye on this area for me. He makes every effort to fit in, although he has an apartment of his own.”
“Will he be there today?”
“Probably not. I’ve sent him on an out-of-town errand and he’s gone by now.”
We reached an arch at the top of the stairs. I followed him through the open doorway and the unpleasant chill that had been wafting down the stairs evolved into a forceful reek. Decaying fish, seaweed, salt, excrement, and diesel fuel made the seaside sewer location unmistakable.
The sound of running water and muffled voices increased as we walked along a wet sidewalk that hugged the wall of the expanding tunnel. The corridor opened into a central room, very dimly lit by small shafts of sunlight high above and a few small fires in barrels and makeshift pits. I tried to guess what street we were under and where. How did a place like this remain undisturbed? I’d seen a shelter a few blocks north along the waterfront at the point where downtown transitioned to a light industrial area. If someone living in a sewer frequented a doorway in that neighborhood, they would probably blend effortlessly.
We paused at the edge of the room, unnoticed so far by the community in front of us. In total, roughly two dozen figures stood, leaned on the wall, or sat on lawn chairs and milk crates. Tents lined an open landing on the far side of the room. The moat around that little concrete island would have been charming if it didn’t have noticeable flotsam and bits of foam throughout. Other than being a hidden tent city, nothing looked out of the ordinary. I kept scanning the room, straining my eyes in the poor light. Did Ivan plan to introduce me to anyone?
Then I recognized the bouncer from the bar. Casey! That was his name. He was having an animated, yet friendly-looking conversation with a small woman around my size. He gestured with his arms, shook them, and the unbelievable happened. His scars opened wide and another set of arms flipped out. Casey’s gigantic muscular arms became four slim-sized arms in the blink of an eye. If I hadn’t been watching, I wouldn’t have known what happened. A surreal mythological character stood where a man once was. The woman he was talking to laughed and a giant red forked tongue rolled out and flicked the air. Something ruffled along the side of her neck and disappeared again, like her skin had fissures that opened and shut seamlessly.
Ivan put his hand on my shoulder and I jolted. I’d been staring. In my mind, I whispered that I was so sorry. No words came out. He gestured ahead and I followed as we approached an abandoned cardboard shelter consisting of a large floor piece and a smaller open box propped up behind it. It made my heart ache to think of someone sleeping and passing long, lonely, hungry hours on scraps of cardboard like this.
As my foot connected with the
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