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            Mackov   opened   it.     A   blinding   light   struck   his   eyes   as   a   breath   of   warm   air   stung   his   cool face.      He   stepped   onto   a   curved   veranda   and   was   immediately   knocked   back   into   the building   by   a   powerful   wind.      As   he   righted   himself   his   fingers   felt   the   buildings   outer   wall resonate   as   his   hand   moved   across   its   perfectly   aligned   dark   red   tiles.      The   experience   was pleasant; almost familiar.             Mackov   looked   out   at   the   black   metal   guardrail   that   curved   along   the   edge   of   the   veranda and   then,   at   the   two   heavy   wooden   chairs   that   stood   in   front   of   him.      He   stepped   around them   and   grasped   the   metal   railing   fighting   to   keep   his   footing.      He   looked   down   as   the   wind whipped   past   his   ears.      He   could   feel   the   tremendous   height   tossing   his   stomach   about   as he swayed back and forth.  He tightened his grip and lifted his head. The   city!      Uncountable   buildings   jutted   up   chaotically   in   every   direction   carpeting   a   broad bowl-shaped   valley   that   dipped   and   rose   before   him   then,   faded   into   the   mist   beyond.      In the   far   distance,   a   cluster   of   incredibly   tall   spires   towered   above   everything,   their   thin tapered   bodies   shimmering   and   swaying   in   the   bright   light.      Mackov   knew   he   was   at   the   top of   one   of   these   incredibly   tall   towers   that   literally   scraped   the   sky.     As   he   stood   transfixed,   a faint roar, like the crashing waves upon a distant beach, surged up to his ears.             As   he   strained   to   better   hear   that   haunting   sound   a   shadow   passed   over   his   vision.     Then,   darkness   descended,   blotting   out   everything.      Mackov’s   pupils   dilated   and   the   air   in his   lungs   rushed   out   as   an   enormous   object   raced   towards   him.      A   shudder   rippled   across his   body.      Gasping,   he   stumbled   back   into   one   of   the   chairs.      The   object   now   filled   his   eyes.     He   staggered   back   through   the   door   and   forced   it   closed   against   the   wind.      His   lungs   gulped in a deep breath as a wave of despair flood over him.     Mackov stood in the elevator.             Time   passed.      He   was   back   in   the   workshop   amongst   his   new   friends.      He   moved   to   the door;   then,   hesitated.      Without   a   word,   they   moved   forward.      One   of   the   men   gently   placed his   right   hand   on   Mackov’s   right   shoulder   and   led   him   back   down   the   path   while   the   others followed.      He   turned   back   to   thank   them,   but   the   words   wouldn’t   come.      They   raised   their right   hands,   their   faces   filled   with   happiness.      They   nodded   one   last   time.      He   smiled   and waved back.              Mackov   walked   through   the   backyard   as   the   station   wagon   pulled   up   scattering   gravel   in every   direction.      The   kids   ran   towards   him.      He   stepped   up   to   the   front   door   and   pushed.      It began   to   roll   slowly   to   one   side   with   a   deep   grinding   sound   and   then   stopped.      His   body recoiled   at   the   cold   emptiness   that   lay   just   beyond.      He   pushed   harder,   but   the   door wouldn’t   budge.      He   pressed   the   doorbell.      It   rang.      Then   rang   again.      Pain   seared   his   lungs forcing the air out.