The fog came early, thick as milk and salty from the wind off the river. The streetlamps smeared into amber halos in her belly, and the city sounded with a silence that one does not trust after dark. Nela slipped her hood down and slipped her hands into the pockets of her jacket, feeling the chill of the keys on her fingers. Her backpack flopped against her hip - the same one in which she carried crumpled maps of the city and a sketchbook full of sticker tickets. - 'Twenty-two-thirteen,' said Patrick, sliding his thumb across the phone screen. His glasses fogged up and his eyes flashed with excitement behind them. - That's when 'Zero' appears on the timetable. Just for three minutes. Kaj, the eldest, stood at the edge of the extinguished track and drew in a deep breath. He was wearing a baseball cap, his dark hair slipping out from underneath. He usually said little, but when something really drew him in, there was an attentiveness in his movements, like that of a cat. - What if it's just a bug in the app? - he muttered, but didn't take a step back. The rumours started a week ago on their neighbourhood channel: screenshots of a timetable with a tram number that no one had seen live. Line 0. Route: Depot East - Between. Between. Nela repeated the word silently until it strangely softened on her tongue, as if it were out of this town. Depot East lay off to the side, behind the shopping centre, where the tarmac cracked with poplar roots and snakes of cables hung over the wire fence like dark lianas. They walked through a breach in the grid. Inside, the world seemed to be holding its breath. The rows of shelters on the disused platform looked like the skeletons of giant insects, and the reflections of an advertising neon sign flashing somewhere far away glinted on the wet paving slabs. - 'Here,' Patrick pointed to a turnout, where two rails, glistening from the damp, diverged sideways, straight into a wall of darkness. - On a map of the city, this track breaks off. And yet... Nela crouched down and touched the metal. It was warm. She felt a gentle tremor under her fingertips, as if a distant bass was transforming into a pulse underground. - Can you feel it? - She asked. - 'I feel like I'm about to be chased by security guards,' Kaj replied, but also put his hand to the rail and fell silent. Time was leaking like a trickle of rain down the glass. 10:11 p.m. Patrick took out of his pocket a small device he had assembled himself from an old radio and a game speaker. It looked like a futuristic soapbox, but it could catch a variety of signals. - 'Let's just listen to see if they're broadcasting anything at all here,' he muttered, turning the dial. There was first a hum in the speaker, then a twinkling rasp, and finally a sound so clear that Nela felt it in her bones: a short, metallic ding, like a bus stop bell. - 'That's not a normal frequency,' Patrick said in a half-hearted voice. 10:12 p.m. The fog thickened, so that the edges of the world became softer. A low murmur came from the distance, at first mistaken by the brain for the sound of a river, but increasingly clear and rhythmic, like the beating of a heart in a huge cage. Nela held her breath. Kaj straightened up, eyes wide. - Can you hear? - He said, although they already knew they did. 22:13. A light came out of the mist. Not like the usual, without the cool white of led lights and the rasp of iron against iron. This light was warm, slightly dim, like from the lamps in the old carriages that Nela only knew from her grandfather's photos. And then it appeared: a tram with sides that showed the old city emblem, removed long ago. Their silhouettes were reflected in the glass, but the reflection was not faithful - as if a different street stretched behind them, with different street lamps and a different sky. The display at the front lit up: 0 BETWEEN. The letters had an uneven rhythm, as if someone had tapped them with their fingers from the centre of the glass. - 'I don't believe it,' whispered Kaj. The tram stopped silently. The doors remained closed. Nela walked closer. She could feel the mist seeping through her hair and hood and the cobbled sand softening under her feet. Behind the glass it was empty - rows of seats upholstered in dark fabric, the handles swaying gently as if someone had just let them go. Above them, a map of the line, but instead of familiar stop names - alien, intriguing names: "Cloud Bridge", "Whispering Colony", "Luminous Causeway", "Reliquary Hill". - Will he open it? - Asked Patrick with his soapbox more than theirs. Ding. The same sound, but closer. The door slid inwards and swung open with a soft, rubbery sigh. A cool breeze came from inside that smelled of wet resin and something metal, new and old at the same time. Nela took a step forward. Just inside the entrance, a thin black line ran across the grey floor, as if drawn with a marker. On the post next to the door was a sign she hadn't noticed before: "Before crossing - make sure where you want to go". Her heart started beating too loudly. - 'Maybe... we'll just have a look,' she said, although she wasn't sure if she was talking to the guys or to herself. - 'Wait,' Kaj held out his hand, but didn't stop her halfway through the gesture. - 'Did you hear that again? Nela put her ear to the ground again. And then the familiar tone, that of the announcements on the regular trams, rang out from the speakers, which had been silent until then. Only instead of the name of the stop, they heard something that made them freeze in place: - Nela. Kaj. Patrick. Please get on.