[There's an unfamiliar number on the network, now. If you'd tune in, the camera is sweeping a panoramic view of the City near the Door - and then the Door itself. The archway flickers with black, and then nothing, and then - ]
Where's the tour guide?
[A boy's face comes into view; grey-eyed, hair velvet in the dying sun. Pretty disarming smile
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Not a very good tour guide, then.
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[Well. Sounds like he knows what he's doing.] ...do you know where I am?
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[tone shifts into something like exasperation.]
Where am I?
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Anatole! You're exactly in the middle of where you don't want to be right now. Sucks, huh?
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[He laughs softly.] Maybe. I don't know yet. Am...I supposed to go somewhere here?
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That's like getting off at a train station that you don't know.
[Pause.]
You know what this train station is?
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This is Anatole. I wish I had a warmer welcome than that but...I'm sure it wouldn't help you right now.
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