Elsewhere

In his heart of hearts, he knew it was just another door.

But not really "just" a door- he believed it was the door. The door to where, he couldn't have told you- but somewhere Important. Somewhere Different. Somewhere Better than the Warren. He dreamed of that unknown place, and each time it was different. But the feeling was always the same- freedom.

It was the color, you see. Several of the doors within the endless passages of the Warren were a similar shade- so whenever he caught a glimpse of the distant blue during his brief dashes AboveGround, he just knew that it, too, was a door. And someday he would find a way through it. A way out. A way to that better place where people and objects weren't perpetually drowning in rust-colored powder.

He never told the others about any of this. They would mock him, he knew. They thought it was odd enough that he went willingly AboveGround when the occasion warranted- for who didn't prefer the security of the tunnels? AboveGround, lacking the constant smelting fires, was cold- the lack of crowds made it lonely. Sometimes its ceiling would leak, far more than any of the Warren's ceilings ever did, soaking whoever had Upper maintenance duty to the bone. Everyone agreed that AboveGround was a highly unpleasant place, to be avoided whenever possible.

Everyone but the boy who dreamed of doors.

(IndustriaLand)