“Well, what do you think? A lot nicer than your room at our old place, right?” The smile on his dad’s face was hopeful.

Ali surveyed the room, trying to take it all in and give it a chance. It was smaller than his old room, which he supposed made sense. There were more people in Bastion, so space was probably harder to come by. In the corner of his room, the movers had set up his bed, a twin, and put some light blue sheets on it. At either side of the bed were two doors. One was open, revealing his own bathroom. The other was closed, but Ali presumed it was a closet. Against the other walls were Ali’s small dresser full of clothes, his rickety old bookshelf stuffed with books, and a new metal-framed desk with his computer set up on it, which was built into the wall.

They say that before the mammock, trains sped across the land aboveground, affording passengers beautiful views of forests and mountains as they journeyed.

But out Ali’s window was only blackness, interrupted occasionally by dimly lit rock walls.

Ali sat in a nearly empty train car across from his father, humming to himself.

Above his father’s head, Ali could see an LED sign with several burned out bulbs, which read “Bastion,” their destination.