Lena knew that no one looked into the old planetarium on the hill above the river. It had been closed long ago and left with silence, dust and a tangle of cables. That night she took the torch, powerbank and keys she had borrowed from the library. For a week she had been dreaming of the same sound, low as the purr of a transformer. It always ended with a flicker of light on the inside of her eyelids, like a star net. Inside, it smelled of old paper and ozone, although the electricity had been cut off for years. A black dome hung over her head and a massive brass projector stood in the middle. At the edge of the room she discovered a brass ring blended into the floor, smooth and cold. Near the edge, someone had long ago scratched out the phrase: "Equate the Fox with the North, and the door will ask". Lena took off her glove and touched the letters; the metal had a gentle, inexplicable warmth. She looked behind the dashboard, searched for a socket and plugged in the powerbank; the light flashed blue. The dome came alive with a pale, steady glow, as if a long-dormant breath was returning to the building's lungs. Stars spilled across the vault, and among them the silent, warning sign of the Fox. Lena took her mobile phone and called Tim, who was usually awake before midnight. "It's not a picnic, it's an experiment," she said when she heard his snarky whisper into the microphone. "Turn on the video call, because you won't believe it anyway." - she added, moving the projector lens to the characters. The image shifted gently; the Fox constellation made contact with North like a tooth in a castle. The brass ring trembled and filled with something darker than darkness, thick as glass. Tymek was silent for a moment, and then all he said was: "Throw something in there, anything, but don't go in." Lena picked up a rusty screwdriver that was lying next to her and let it drop into the middle. It didn't fall; it hovered horizontally, half submerged, as if in a hot, transparent liquid. After a second, it slid back out, covered in fine frost and perfectly clear. From the ring came a low, persistent sound, the same from dreams, only closer and more alive. A different array of stars twinkled on the dome, drew the outline of a city she knew but did not. Staircases without graffiti, a bridge without rust, a river with black water; all as if reflected in a dream. "Lena?" - whispered someone, and it was her voice, though the sound carried an alien, harsh echo. Then a guard's boots crunched on the side of the door, which occasionally went round the hill, yawning loudly. Something on the other side of the ring moved slightly, as if taking a step forward, and Lena held out her hand.