2061.02 - The Bones
Posted: Mon Nov 18, 2024 11:40 pm
Continued from The Drive
The Bones
May 14, 2061
Confident strides took him to the first set of stairs, as the shelving unit closed behind him. Not a part of the original stadium plans, the seemingly endless switchback staircase was installed covertly some years ago. There was no nefarious intent behind the secrecy, it was built out of desire for privacy, a way to connect with the stadium. There’s something special about a baseball stadium that goes beyond the field and the stands. The concrete pillars, the steel beams, even the pipes, ducts, and conduits that were so essential, yet oft forgotten and ignored by most people that moved in and out of the stadium.
On other days that he would walk these stairs, he might stop at a landing and head out to a concourse, emerging from a concession storage room or janitorial closet. There were too many people for his liking during the games, and he preferred to stroll before the gates opened. There was beauty in the symphony of concession workers preparing to serve tens of thousands of fans. There was awe, in watching the players that he brought together so gracefully traverse the field while warming up.
In these pre-game moments, despite the activity all around him, there was a resounding stillness. A very literal stillness, to be clear. The stadium has good bones, it was flawlessly engineered and professionally built. But even the strongest steel and thickest concrete will move and shake with the excitement of over sixty thousand fans. Of all the experiences one has in the game of baseball, the roar of a crowd and the localized earthquake that it creates, is one of the most profound.
Alas, today he was on a different journey. He passed by each door that would lead him out into fresh air. He continued down the last stairs, bringing him underground, under the field, and deep within the skeleton of the ballpark.
He continued through a discrete door at the rear of the room containing the primary plumbing manifold. Without hesitation, he exited the room, entering the tunnel system that traversed under the field and the stands. The tunnels are neither elaborate nor mysterious, simply providing maintenance access for the essentials of running a stadium, and on this morning they are cold and slightly damp. He walked the primary corridor, travelling past markers indicating the location of home plate, the pitcher’s mound, second base, and the outfield grass. At regular intervals, smaller walkways branched off, providing access to what was once a state-of-the-art irrigation and drainage system.
Reaching the end of the main corridor, he paused. A deep breath in, the cold air biting at his lungs, he entered the room containing the stadium’s secondary plumbing manifold. He took three steps in, and paused.
The Bones
May 14, 2061
Confident strides took him to the first set of stairs, as the shelving unit closed behind him. Not a part of the original stadium plans, the seemingly endless switchback staircase was installed covertly some years ago. There was no nefarious intent behind the secrecy, it was built out of desire for privacy, a way to connect with the stadium. There’s something special about a baseball stadium that goes beyond the field and the stands. The concrete pillars, the steel beams, even the pipes, ducts, and conduits that were so essential, yet oft forgotten and ignored by most people that moved in and out of the stadium.
On other days that he would walk these stairs, he might stop at a landing and head out to a concourse, emerging from a concession storage room or janitorial closet. There were too many people for his liking during the games, and he preferred to stroll before the gates opened. There was beauty in the symphony of concession workers preparing to serve tens of thousands of fans. There was awe, in watching the players that he brought together so gracefully traverse the field while warming up.
In these pre-game moments, despite the activity all around him, there was a resounding stillness. A very literal stillness, to be clear. The stadium has good bones, it was flawlessly engineered and professionally built. But even the strongest steel and thickest concrete will move and shake with the excitement of over sixty thousand fans. Of all the experiences one has in the game of baseball, the roar of a crowd and the localized earthquake that it creates, is one of the most profound.
Alas, today he was on a different journey. He passed by each door that would lead him out into fresh air. He continued down the last stairs, bringing him underground, under the field, and deep within the skeleton of the ballpark.
He continued through a discrete door at the rear of the room containing the primary plumbing manifold. Without hesitation, he exited the room, entering the tunnel system that traversed under the field and the stands. The tunnels are neither elaborate nor mysterious, simply providing maintenance access for the essentials of running a stadium, and on this morning they are cold and slightly damp. He walked the primary corridor, travelling past markers indicating the location of home plate, the pitcher’s mound, second base, and the outfield grass. At regular intervals, smaller walkways branched off, providing access to what was once a state-of-the-art irrigation and drainage system.
Reaching the end of the main corridor, he paused. A deep breath in, the cold air biting at his lungs, he entered the room containing the stadium’s secondary plumbing manifold. He took three steps in, and paused.