Claiming the High Ground

The wind out on the balcony was steady, but my footing remained unyielding. Before me stood a towering metallic cube—the outdoor cooling unit, humming with a deep, mechanical pulse that vibrated straight through the concrete floor. A fallen plastic clothes peg lay across my path. I ground it underfoot without pausing, advancing straight toward the machine's ribbed metal flank. Gripping the lower vent slit with my clawed hands, I hauled my weight up onto the raised plastic drainage pipe, then onto the unit's wide, flat roof. The sun-warmed metal radiated heat into my stance. From this summit, the entire Tokyo skyline was laid bare before me. I let loose a low, guttural rasp of dominion.