The Metropolis Case_ A Novel - Matthew Gallaway [111]
Outside, the sidewalks steamed and glistened in the hazy white light, and as Lucien walked past the construction on the Ringstrasse—on the western side of the site, with all the new government buildings—he barely noticed that it was effectively underwater, with only columns and pilings poking through the surface like a graveyard of masts, or that, to the north, many of the streets were now canals, with water lapping at the windows and doors. He took his usual detour to Grabenstrasse, which though wet was not flooded. Many of the shopkeepers were bringing their goods out to dry in the sun, while farther ahead on the Stephansplatz, only a few puddles dotted the field of cobblestones. Here he paused to admire the cathedral’s shining spire, which seemed to offer a benevolent grace and power, and even inspired him to whisper a contingent prayer to a god he had never really believed in.
Running down Kärntnerstrasse, he saw the opera house, and his spirits lifted at the sight of the copper wings of the rooftop, which hovered majestically above the last remnants of silver fog. As he got closer, however, his exuberance was tempered by the realization that the sandbags had given way, so that the entire structure was circled by a moat, perhaps fifteen feet deep. He stood on the edge and peered through the tops of the entranceways—the doors had been pushed open by the flood—into the vast interior. He called out to Eduard but heard only his own voice echoing back across the water. He yelled again and this time heard his name return as soft as a whisper.
“Eduard?” he repeated and was met by the same whispered response.
He found a plank of wood about the size of a small door, on which he was able to kneel precariously and paddle forward. He ducked under the entrance and went through to the lobby, where the water was still and flat except for the debris that seemed to hover ominously in the shadows beneath the surface. He continued forward into the auditorium, where, after catching his breath, he again called out.
“Lucien,” Eduard responded, but in a soft, hesitant tone that Lucien almost didn’t recognize.
He looked up and saw Eduard perched on a scaffold near the very top of the dome, at least a hundred feet up. He could not suppress a cry of surprise and then fear as he strained to see. “Eduard,” he yelled. “What—what are you doing up there?”
“It’s over,” Eduard replied after a few seconds. Though he spoke softly, there was something about the watery acoustics of the theater that made it seem as if he were only inches away. “They’re tearing it down.”
“What do you mean?” Lucien replied automatically, as it began to occur to him that Eduard was not just inspecting something.
“It’s done,” his lover said. “Destroyed. Enjoy it while you can.”
There was a flat, hollow quality to Eduard’s voice that alarmed Lucien, even as he struggled to understand. “But—but I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks,” he responded, trying to sound confident. “Once it drains, it’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll push things back a few months, but the outside looks—well, it looks beautiful. Did you see some of the other buildings? They’re much worse—there’s hardly anything left at all—”
“It’s just an excuse,” Eduard vaguely replied.
“What are you talking about?” Lucien cried.
“ ‘I hope you won’t be too offended, Herr van der Null,’ ” Eduard began in an affected, imperious voice before continuing in a harder, sarcastic tone. “Oh no, thank you, Excellency, why would I be offended? I’ve only given fifteen years of my life to this, so of course I understand why political expediency demands that you do whatever you must to please the general’s cousin. Why let a little flooding go to waste? These things happen! Such is life! Good day, sire!”
Lucien stared up, perplexed.