Michael nodded. The screams gradually faded and soon they were enveloped once again in the sound of the drizzle pattering against the roof of the dome above them. They’d climbed to the top floor of Jheeter’s Gate and were looking down at the amazing sight of the immense station from on high. The platforms and tracks seemed very distant and the elaborate structure of arches and multiple levels could be seen much more clearly from that point.
Michael stopped by the edge of a metal balustrade that jutted out over the void, vertically above the large clock under which they had passed when they entered the station. His artist’s eye appreciated the mesmerising effect created by the hundreds of curved beams issuing from the geometric centre of the dome. They seemed to vanish in an endless arc, never touching the floor. Viewed from that privileged position, the station seemed to rise towards the sky, spiralling into a va
ult of steel and glass that merged into the clouds above. Roshan joined Michael and took a brief look at the sight that was bewitching his friend.
‘We’re going to get dizzy. Come on, let’s go.’
Michael raised a hand in protest.
‘No, wait. Look down.’
Roshan took a quick peep over the balustrade.
‘If I look again, I’ll fall over.’
A mysterious smile appeared on Michael’s lips. Roshan stared at his friend, wondering what he had discovered.
‘Don’t you realise, Roshan?’
Roshan shook his head. ‘Explain it to me.’
‘This structure,’ Michael said. ‘If you look towards the vanishing point from this position in the dome, you’ll understand.’
Roshan tried to follow Michael’s instructions, but he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to see.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’
‘It’s very simple. This station, the whole structure of Jheeter’s Gate, is an immense sphere. We can only see the part that emerges above ground. The clock tower is situated at the very centre of the dome, like a sort of radius.’
Roshan took in Michael’s words.
‘OK, it’s a stupid ball,’ he said. ‘So what?’
‘Do you realise the technical difficulties involved in building a structure like this?’ asked Michael.
Again his friend shook his head.
‘I assume they’d be considerable.’
‘Radical,’ Michael asserted, deploying an adjective he used in only the most extreme cases. ‘Why would anyone design a structure like this one?’
‘I’m not sure I want to know the answer,’ said Roshan. ‘Let’s go down a level. There’s nothing here.’
Michael gave a distracted nod and followed Roshan to the staircase.
Beneath the dome’s observation balcony was a kind of mezzanine level barely a metre and a half high flooded by the rainwater that had been falling over Calcutta since the beginning of May. The floor lay under about twenty centimetres of stagnant water, which gave off a nauseating stench, and was covered by a mass of mud and rubble that had been decomposing for more than a decade due to the continual seepage. After crouching down to enter the mezzanine, Michael and Roshan found themselves wading through the mud, which came up to their ankles.
‘This place is worse than the catacombs,’ said Roshan. ‘Why the hell is this ceiling so hellishly low? People haven’t been this small for centuries.’
‘It was probably a restricted area,’ said Michael. ‘Perhaps it houses part of the counterweight system that supports the dome. Mind you don’t trip over anything. The whole place could collapse.’
‘Is that a joke?’
‘Yes,’ said Michael dryly.
‘Then it’s the third joke I’ve heard from you in six years,’ said Roshan. ‘And it’s the worst.’
Michael didn’t bother to reply and continued to make his way slowly through the swamp. The stench of stagnant water was beginning to fog his brain, and he started to think that perhaps they should turn back and descend one more level. Besides, he doubted that anything or anybody could be hidden in the impregnable quagmire.