William stood stunned, his hand clutching the edge of his sleeve, his mind still struggling to process the impossible vista before him. The question had left his lips before he could stop it, a whisper carried away by the warm, scented breeze.

  “How is this here”

  Behind him, the old man let out a long, slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was different. It sounded softer, tinged with something William couldn't name. Memory, perhaps. Or grief.

  "Ah, yes." A pause. "I had it built. Several years ago. For my beloved wife."

  William turned.

  The old man was not looking at him. His gaze had drifted past William to a spot near the far edge of the veranda where a willow tree stood, its long, delicate branches sweeping the ground like a green curtain. Beneath it, half-hidden by the trailing leaves, was a grave.

  A beautiful statue rose above it—a woman, carved from pale stone, her face serene, her hands clasped before her. She seemed to be gazing out at the same view the old man had offered William, as if she, too, were admiring the forest and the sea.

  Beside it, smaller and simpler, was another marker.

  William's breath caught. He looked from the grave to the old man, then back to the statue. The woman's features, even in stone, held a gentle warmth. The sculptor had known her. Had loved her.

  "My wife was an architect," the old man said quietly moving towards the statue. "A brilliant one. And she loved the Victorian era. The houses, the gardens, the way they built things to last." He gestured vaguely at the old house fused into the mountain. "I wanted to give her something that would last." A sad, small smile touched his lips.

  William stared at him. The words tumbled out before he could process them.

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  "You… had it built?"

  The old man ignored the question. Perhaps he hadn't heard. Perhaps he simply had no interest in explaining the logistics of constructing a Victorian house on a mountain veranda in a world that monitored everything. Instead, he walked past William, toward the opening of the mountain, and extended his arms in a wide, sweeping gesture as if embracing the world.

  "Come," he said. "Look at the view."

  William turned back to him. And this time, he looked.

  Below, far below, the city stretched to the horizon; a grey, sprawling mass of towers and lights, hazy with pollution even from this height. William could see the district where his company’s building stood, a tiny speck in the endless grid. It looked small from here. Insignificant.

  But when he turned his gaze to the left, the world changed.

  Forest. A deep, sprawling forest of green, untouched and wild, rolling over hills and valleys until it met something William had only ever seen in historical modules: the sea. Blue and vast, it stretched beyond the horizon, its surface glittering under the sun. No ships. No platforms. Just water and sky and the distant line where they kissed.

  He stood there, frozen, as two worlds fought for his attention: the grey prison of the city and the blue freedom of the sea.

  Then he looked up. And up.

  The gap in the mountain's face, the vast opening that held the veranda, was sealed. Something invisible, shimmered faintly at the edges where it met the stone. A force field or perhaps a glass bubble. He couldn't tell. But he understood its purpose instantly.

  To keep the pollution out. To keep this place pure.

  The old man had not just built a home, but a world. A pocket of the past, preserved against the dying of the light.

  William opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he possibly say?

  Everything was overwhelming. The beauty, the peace, the impossible existence of it all—it should have filled him with wonder. And it did. But the wonder only made the grief worse. A deep, aching hollow opened in his chest, a homesickness for a world he had never known, a life he had never lived. He was mourning something he couldn't name, and the not-knowing made it hurt even more.

  They both were lost in thought and awe. The view was really breathtaking. The old man burst into tears.

  William shook his head fast, like a tremble.

  He remained silent, but he, without a thought, reached his hand for the old man’s shoulder. The old man grabbed his hand and squeezed it with gratitude.

  “We failed you…” His voice cracked. “We… failed you all…”