Chapter 54: The Dorian Collective

Familiar Frontiers

Bert Anderson took the stairs slowly to avoid the host of unnecessary eyes drifting toward his pre-arthritic gait. It came with the territory. He was an outsider amongst new-age technophiles, a strange old face in a sea of familiarity.

He reached the stairs’ top plaza, shaded by an awning held in place by a pair of load-bearing beams chiseled into a megalithic statue of Atlas, the god’s mythical world-sized burden hanging overhead in a sort of half-moon shell. The company name–DEOX LOGISTICS–also loomed, concrete eyes presiding over the seemingly endless lines of human traffic.