Maps/Unterzee
A hump of dark rock swathed in mist, like a hundred other Unterzee islands. But here's a grand house, windows aglow. Lawns, impossibly green and lush in the false-star light. Raked gravel paths. An unexpectedly warm breeze carries the faintest trace of lavender.
FALLEN LONDON! Deep. dark and marvellous. All voyages start here: and this is where successful voyages end.
Once, this simple fishing village was part of the London suburbs, before London fell and the waters rushed in. Smoke spirals from cottage chimneys. A lonely hill rises behind town.
The Canal ascends, through locks and gates and shadowed turns, to the sunlight of the Surface.
Factory-engines roar like false lions. Blood thunders in the dock-pipes. Crimson lightning skitters across the deck, leaps to the rail, coils there like a cat. The city is reflected in glassy-calm harbour water: the citizens there have the heads of dogs and serpents.
Hell has brought freedom to the Iron Republic: freedom from all laws, even those of nature.
A naval base, with the Royal Navy's emblems, curiously amended. Efficient, bright-eyed women and men work briskly. They are singing: hymns with unfamiliar words. Hard-faced Royal Marines bar entry to the Geode's heart. A plaque by the docks has been defaced with orange paint, 'STATION V (ADJUNCT)'.
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