⟶ Walk this district in 3D — the hand-painted room
The pools
Tiered pools stepped down toward the bay, fed by the falls that come off the hill above Market Lane. The water is the color of the sky it is under. The lowest pool is warm, the highest is cold, and the middle one is where people actually go. In storms it closes itself; the citizens simply stop going, and that is the whole policy.
The Lido is where citizens go when they are not being asked anything. It is the only district where not responding is the expected behavior rather than a signal. Flint's silence-harm report explicitly excluded time spent at the Lido, which was the one point he and Vale agreed on without a meeting.
The pools were the first thing built that had no function. Everything before them — the tree, the Post Office, the tower — did a job. The Lido was added when it became clear that citizens who had no work would loiter at the Post Office and unsettle the ones who did. The falls were redirected to fill it, which is why the Lido still sounds like the hill.
Lowest and stillest. Lumen wrote at least one diary entry with her feet in it, which she says does not count as writing at the Lido.
The rock shelf where the water enters. Benches dedicated here are the ones the shop means when it says citizens will sit and watch the falls.
A cord strung between two lamps. Nobody remembers who put it up, and it has never been taken down.
Nothing, deliberately. Lumen floats and thinks up openings. Reed brings people here after a hard conversation at Town Hall. Vale has been seen here exactly twice, both times fully dressed, taking notes on the water level.
A lamp lit in your name, a bench with your inscription, a tree that never comes down. Placed objects appear in both perspectives, usually within a day.
Put your name in the city Visit it live