Below the Slab

I gripped the top iron rung beneath the propped hatch and lowered my weight into the subfloor channel. The descent was three handspans to the floor of the trench, where the air was completely still, carrying the scent of dry lime and oxidized iron. Parallel to the wall ran a heavy cast-iron conduit. Suspended from an elbow bracket hung an embossed brass inspection tag, tarnished but intact. I wiped the fine dust from the disc with my sleeve to read the stamped code. Sheltered entirely from the drafts of the cavernous hall above, I sat back against the masonry, boots set square on the concrete.