A BRIDGE
Following the narrow street, you find yourself between dark yellowish buildings towering above you that leave only a thin ribbon of the sky visible. As you are walk step by step, you see the sky turning from afternoon blue to the ink blue of the night. You are approaching a construction of some kind. It’s made of shiny glass and it’s edges reflect the light of the streetlamps. A nameplate tells you what it is: The Library of Future Memories. As you stand facing the institution you notice someone coming out of a door on your right.