[Location / Visual] Central's giant birdhouse
Central's buildings rose around him, the weird-ass mixture of structures that didn't bother adhering to any particular time period, let alone any sort of shared geographical origin. Paul Smecker moved past high-rises that could have belonged on Wall Street but sat bizarrely next to adobe-walled haciendas and even an Old West style saloon. It was like walking through a movie set, Hollywood backlots, Paul thought as he kept up a brisk on-foot pace.
He'd started at the Sanctuary, which he'd decided was pretty appallingly named given the huge walls of glass windows on the ground floor. Not much of a fucking sanctuary against zombies, even if they'd had power longer than anywhere else in the city. From there, Paul had moved out in a spiral, the binoculars he'd looted from the supermarket during the zombie invasion slung around his neck. He stopped at intersections, scanned buildings and then carried on.
Building after building was considered and dismissed with his own brutal internal criticism. No, too many windows. No, too many doors. No, single-story. No, too close to other structures, too large, too small, no-- no-- no--
It was past noon when Paul stopped, shading his eyes with one hand as he caught sight of a building down the road. A wall... maybe ten foot, around an ugly, blocky structure of concrete that from this distance didn't look to have any windows whatsoever.
Paul arched his brows, and scanned the building with the field glasses, trying to guess the purpose of the building. It looked eminently defensible, but there was.... no reason for such a building to be here, no reason other than it being... well, being exactly what the hell he was looking for.
That sort of bothered him.
He stood still for several minutes, looking over the building through the binoculars, before finally shrugging and starting closer. Nothing for it but to investigate, see if it looked as good from close-up as it did from a distance.
There were no signs of life, no Extras coming in or out, no explanation or clue as to what the hell the building was for-- until he got close enough to be hit by the smell. Paul wrinkled his nose and pulled his shirt up over his nose as he pushed open the one door on the ground floor and stepped inside.
The light inside was dim, illumination coming only from a number of small holes up near the low ceiling, higher than windows would be. Paul paused a moment by the door, letting his eyes adjust. There was no adjusting to the smell, though. After a few moments, Paul realized what the source of the smell was-- the floor looked like a Jackson Pollack painting, if Pollack had painted solely with bird droppings.
The ground floor appeared to be one room, no walls separating it, no features-- a bare floor of concrete, littered with both the droppings and with feathers. Paul crouched down and picked up a feather with a frown, turning it over in his fingers. He glanced up; the ceiling of this room was a mess of exposed rafters, with white blobs all over that he realized, after a few seconds, were nests. There must be hundreds... no, thousands of them, he thought, counting the ones clumped along one beam and multiplying that by the floors above.
The only other thing in the room was a rough counter in one corner, with some sort of electronic equipment on it. Paul made his way over. All the markings on the equipment were in some Asian script; Paul knew a few words of Japanese, just enough to tell it wasn't Japanese. He did see the universal triangle of a 'play' button, though, and pressed it.
Speakers hidden somewhere-- no, speakers outside, Paul realized-- began to play a chorus of chirps and twitters, tweet, tweet-- birdsong. Paul stared around him, still bemused as to what the purpose of the structure was, then turned the music off.
There was a stairway in one corner, and it led to a second floor, the same as the first except with no sound equipment. There were three stories in all, and roof access; Paul breathed deep of the relatively fresh air atop the roof, even if the scent was still pretty bad. He walked around the roof, considering the view. Not as tall as some buildings in Taxon-- not close-- but would he really want more than three stories? Past a certain size a structure was no longer defensible, not without an equal force of men.
No plumbing that he'd seen. Some electricity, some wiring, there must be, to power the sound equipment...
Paul turned the feather over in his fingers. No birds. There were no birds.
The consummate city boy, a lack of wildlife was not something he was prone to notice. But this was driving the point home, making him think about it-- no pigeons, the universal flying rats of metropolitan areas. No rats either. No cockroaches.
Paul dug his tablet out from his pocket and flicked it on.
"Afternoon, Taxon," he said into the little screen, holding up the downy-if-dirty gray feather before his face, and then blowing it out of his fingers, letting the wind carry it off his palm and away. "Paul Smecker here. Anyone notice the lack of urban wildlife here so far? Another of those little mysteries.
"And here's a more pragmatic question: anybody want to help me with a project to establish a defensible location within the city? I'm going to need a fair bit of manpower." Judicious pause. "And it might help if you happen to have a cold at the moment, or otherwise can't smell."
OOC: For the dorks like me, Paul has found a bird nest factory, a type of increasingly common building in Asia. Man, we humans are freaking weird.
He'd started at the Sanctuary, which he'd decided was pretty appallingly named given the huge walls of glass windows on the ground floor. Not much of a fucking sanctuary against zombies, even if they'd had power longer than anywhere else in the city. From there, Paul had moved out in a spiral, the binoculars he'd looted from the supermarket during the zombie invasion slung around his neck. He stopped at intersections, scanned buildings and then carried on.
Building after building was considered and dismissed with his own brutal internal criticism. No, too many windows. No, too many doors. No, single-story. No, too close to other structures, too large, too small, no-- no-- no--
It was past noon when Paul stopped, shading his eyes with one hand as he caught sight of a building down the road. A wall... maybe ten foot, around an ugly, blocky structure of concrete that from this distance didn't look to have any windows whatsoever.
Paul arched his brows, and scanned the building with the field glasses, trying to guess the purpose of the building. It looked eminently defensible, but there was.... no reason for such a building to be here, no reason other than it being... well, being exactly what the hell he was looking for.
That sort of bothered him.
He stood still for several minutes, looking over the building through the binoculars, before finally shrugging and starting closer. Nothing for it but to investigate, see if it looked as good from close-up as it did from a distance.
There were no signs of life, no Extras coming in or out, no explanation or clue as to what the hell the building was for-- until he got close enough to be hit by the smell. Paul wrinkled his nose and pulled his shirt up over his nose as he pushed open the one door on the ground floor and stepped inside.
The light inside was dim, illumination coming only from a number of small holes up near the low ceiling, higher than windows would be. Paul paused a moment by the door, letting his eyes adjust. There was no adjusting to the smell, though. After a few moments, Paul realized what the source of the smell was-- the floor looked like a Jackson Pollack painting, if Pollack had painted solely with bird droppings.
The ground floor appeared to be one room, no walls separating it, no features-- a bare floor of concrete, littered with both the droppings and with feathers. Paul crouched down and picked up a feather with a frown, turning it over in his fingers. He glanced up; the ceiling of this room was a mess of exposed rafters, with white blobs all over that he realized, after a few seconds, were nests. There must be hundreds... no, thousands of them, he thought, counting the ones clumped along one beam and multiplying that by the floors above.
The only other thing in the room was a rough counter in one corner, with some sort of electronic equipment on it. Paul made his way over. All the markings on the equipment were in some Asian script; Paul knew a few words of Japanese, just enough to tell it wasn't Japanese. He did see the universal triangle of a 'play' button, though, and pressed it.
Speakers hidden somewhere-- no, speakers outside, Paul realized-- began to play a chorus of chirps and twitters, tweet, tweet-- birdsong. Paul stared around him, still bemused as to what the purpose of the structure was, then turned the music off.
There was a stairway in one corner, and it led to a second floor, the same as the first except with no sound equipment. There were three stories in all, and roof access; Paul breathed deep of the relatively fresh air atop the roof, even if the scent was still pretty bad. He walked around the roof, considering the view. Not as tall as some buildings in Taxon-- not close-- but would he really want more than three stories? Past a certain size a structure was no longer defensible, not without an equal force of men.
No plumbing that he'd seen. Some electricity, some wiring, there must be, to power the sound equipment...
Paul turned the feather over in his fingers. No birds. There were no birds.
The consummate city boy, a lack of wildlife was not something he was prone to notice. But this was driving the point home, making him think about it-- no pigeons, the universal flying rats of metropolitan areas. No rats either. No cockroaches.
Paul dug his tablet out from his pocket and flicked it on.
"Afternoon, Taxon," he said into the little screen, holding up the downy-if-dirty gray feather before his face, and then blowing it out of his fingers, letting the wind carry it off his palm and away. "Paul Smecker here. Anyone notice the lack of urban wildlife here so far? Another of those little mysteries.
"And here's a more pragmatic question: anybody want to help me with a project to establish a defensible location within the city? I'm going to need a fair bit of manpower." Judicious pause. "And it might help if you happen to have a cold at the moment, or otherwise can't smell."
OOC: For the dorks like me, Paul has found a bird nest factory, a type of increasingly common building in Asia. Man, we humans are freaking weird.