By rail, it was only a five minute trip from Tower Bridge to his place of work. The Ministry of Mediation & Conciliation. But one of the Lower Echelons of the government.
Once he crossed the lobby, it was only an additional two minutes before he arrived at Overseer Drexel’s office. Yet Rand was running. For some reason, he had a mind to run. A rather peculiar feeling that he shouldn’t take his time.
Stepping off the maglev, Rand found himself at Selhurst Station. And the ministry building loomed directly across the road. Hardly a skyscraper, as were built closer to the city centre; it jutted out twenty stories. A trapezium of a structure, narrowed sharply at the top, which stood out from most buildings in the city. Its steel frame was such that it looked the same colour as the windows which were prolific. But tinted so one could not see through them from the outside. As it was a state building, the front was afforded a water feature with a statue stood in its pool, with topiaries and benches scattered about.
Passengers away, the train sped further off to the south. Whilst Rand hurried inside, crossing the rue with other pedestrians when it became safe. He turned briefly to the drivers of PRTs at the head of the lanes of traffic. They did the same, watching Rand jog, wondering if Rand was late for work.
The doors moved out of Rand’s way, as he slowed down so as not to cause alarm, to cross a lavish foyer to a set of turnstiles. He had his employee identity card at the ready to let him pass.
Beyond that was an escalator which he rode to the mezzanine. And after that, a lift to the upper levels. To the top. To Overseer Drexel’s office. The elevator hummed it moved so quickly.
He ran again once the doors opened, rocketing through the hall, dodging desks and colleagues.