A huge trench-blocked passage. The workers here, knowing people would need to cross, built a lift system to transport people and goods over the gap. Although the lift would have been generous to most people's needs, especially the needs of the common worker as they went about their day, to Zan and Winters and the odd-hundred or so mouths along for the ride, a lift any size other than 'gigantic' would have presented problems. A lift hardly big enough for ten people? Big problem.

"We need to get people across as soon as possible," Zan said to Winters.

"Obviously. But look! I'm sorry. This is frustrating. The machine is not even powered! I didn't mind so much at the gate. Oversights happen. But again? I am with you, boy. I thought the assistant said everything was all up and ready for us? Sigh."

"I will try to sense how to turn it on," Zan said, getting to work, but also saying he needed quiet.

And quiet he did need! Hearing his stomach grumble distracted him, which caused him to focus instead on the fluttering of insects and the festering of bugs. Focus, Zan! Refocusing, Zan shut his eyes for a moment and visualized the whole scene being wiped. No more bug or breathing focus. Magic! Where is it? Zan asked.

Opening his eyes and thinking of nothing but the simple control mechanism before him, a basic lever with a keyed ignition slot, and a button, Zan reached out to touch the device. It was not made of an exotic material. His touch knew the materials were basic metal. The wire supporting the lift was steel, rare though it was, steel and metal were hardly unknowns to people such as Zan.

Going deeper, Zan willed himself to attempt and seek out the magics within the console. His searching, poking need found its leverage when the magic within flared to meet his enquiry. Unknown even to Zan, the flaring magical essence inside the console leaked into his mind. Connected to an inert source of magic in a way he never had connected before, and with drool forming at his lips, eyes catatonic, Zan felt and saw in a single image the flow of the magic within the machine and its logic. Zan's hand snapped into twisting fingers. With a jerk of his thumb and index finger, Zan forced the magic to flow, and the machine turned on.

Rumbling, stinky exhaust puffed from a nearby stack. With such an acrid stink, it was impossible for Zan to not immediately break from his stupor.

Coming to, Zan realized Jiehong had been shaking him. "W-what?" Zan asked, dizzy.

"Oh! Finally, you're speaking again!" Jiehong said, nearly shouted.

"What happened?" Zan asked.

"You went into some kind of trance," Whiskey explained, as Jiehong continued to hold Zan in a brotherly embrace.

"I had no idea. I was so focused on trying to sense the magic I guess I blocked everything else out?" Zan asked.

"I guess--" Jiehong began but was overridden by Winters who began shouting for people to enter the lift.

Hearing the bustle of people, Zan snapped back to his present reality. "Good job!" Winters shouted to Zan. "You came through, bud!"

Zan returned the appreciation and thanked Winters for his sentiment. Though a part of Zan wished Winters used a more mature honorific than 'bud.' What was he, a child? A young child? No. He was old enough to be considered at least manly in many places. But Zan shoved the momentary feeling of inadequacy down. It was only Winters acting grandfatherly, after all.

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The lift automatically activated when a certain number of people crammed inside and lowered the safety gate. With the haste of a slug-snail, the lift inched its way over the gorge. No one could avert their eyes. Everyone seemed transfixed on the lift's rickety passage and whether some grave disaster would happen, killing all who boarded. Zan wouldn't lie. He always thought of some horrendous trouble when he saw the immensity of some grand building or war engine. Gods be praised, however! For the lift made it over safely. Hitting some unseen button on the other side, the lift began its return passage.

'Should be a good moment for some down time,' Zan thought to himself. Too late, though, as Winters stepped toward him and said, "Send yourself and your friends to the back of the group. We are too big to be secure or to believe we are safe. I need you protecting our rear!"

"Right!" Zan said, nodding to his friends. They took off and quickly secured the backend of the group. Naturally falling into line with the few nearby soldiers, Zan was not concerned about everyone making it to the other side, though he asked the people close to him, "Any trouble?" Their answers were what he expected: cusses at the weird environment, questions about what was making the bloodcurdling howl, and why it was so humid. Answering every question was easy as the answer was the same. "I don't know," Zan would say.

By the time the fourth group of ten crossed the gap using the lift, Zan's eye lids drooped. His engagement dipped as well. His System gave him a notification: [Stamina Levels Critical]. As though he needed the reminder.

Jerking himself awake, Zan thought it nothing less than astounding how despite the surreal horror of another part of reality bleeding into his own little section, he remained so tired as to be on the verge of falling asleep. He couldn't help it! The last couple of days, even with his forced rest, were not easy on him. Now, more than ever, he longed for the comforts of the command center. A cool bedroom, a kitchen, and who could forget, the wonderful Wardens who had helped him so much...

"Focus Zan!" Whiskey snapped at him.

"Sorry. I am just so..." Zan said, not able to finish the thought.

"I get it. You're exhausted. Heck-on-a-bet, we're all tired beyond reason, Zan, but we're pulling through, aren't we?" Whiskey said.

"Don't worry. I am stretching now, see? Just gotta keep my blood moving," Zan said as he started his basic stretching.

"You'll have more success with this. I made some black tea a while ago. I have a little left. It's only lukewarm but it should give you a tiny edge. Could you believe one of the soldiers had tea on him? What a world!" Whiskey told Zan as she handed him a cup with an enclosed lid around a straw. She took the cup off her belt as though it were a grenade; don't want to mix up those two, Zan thought to himself and smirked at the thought of someone trying to take a sip out of a grenade. How silly!

Zan smiled before he even took a sip. This caused Whiskey to say, "What's it like in your head, guy?" Zan smiled and drank down all of the remaining beverage.

"How would I know? What's it like in your head?" Zan asked, throwing the question back at her.

"Calm. Composed. I think through with things. Logically, I mean. Not the kind of person who can easily picture the abstract, but I enjoy making sense of the world in such a way which allows me genuine insight into how people and society function," Whiskey explained.

Zan wasn't at all expecting such a concise answer. He meant the counter half in jest!

"I had no idea. I'm the opposite, I guess. I like to know my place in the world before I care to learn about anything else."

"Interesting way to live. We will have to talk about this more later. When we're not on duty."

Looking at the lift and then the remaining people, they still have a long while yet to go before everyone was across. So, of course, trouble decided to set in and begin. It started with s shriek, like always, and escalated from there, until a section of the iron fence blew inward and into the steep ditch. His attention affixed to the spot in the fence that had caved in, Zan hard gasps from the crowd as horrific monsters with more limbs and mouths than bugs emerged from beyond the fence.