Tidelands: III-Eight (48)

Society. Abi.

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She was smaller than Caulden had expected – petite, almost, a perfect figure in miniature, an effect exaggerated no doubt by the large, empty space of which she was the lone central feature, sat on her own mini-replica throne and dais. But maybe this was just a psychological hangover, an effect of the contrast between the enormous statue of her outside of this … what? Some sort of temple? Throne room? It was surprisingly spartan, given all the techno-jungle craziness outside, of which merely a trace remained in the form of a subtle patterning of the otherwise plain, level floor. He could dimly make out other decoration, far out on the peripheral walls – some Egyptian tomb or Bayeux Tapestry style comic strip? – which the weak amber lighting didn’t allow him to decipher from that distance.