I sit on the platform, swing my feet out and land on the support. Swinging my legs over the edge, I land on the next support. I run down the support until I reach the end on the cliff wall. I look back. The Vault looms, kept aloft by the spider’s web of struts, hanging over the expanse of purple. I savor the view and then leap off, twisting my foot so as to rotate to look back at the vault. I place my left hand on my hardhat as my speed down into the nothingness increases. I have no idea where the bottom of the shaft goes. Maybe to the planet’s core. I never stick around to find out. I open my Relto book and cup my hand over the linking panel, ready to slam my palm down and link just in case. So here I am, falling backwards down the shaft, the Vault and its supports slowly vanishing into the all-consuming purple haze. I can’t see anything anymore, all just purple. I twist around to look in all directions, left hand still planted firmly on my hat, and I find I’m all alone. Nothing anywhere I can see. And this loneliness frightens me and so I press my palm to the page and vanish and go visit people and feel better. And this is what I love about the cavern.