In the Control Tower

A commuter named Dewforth rides a train through a scarred landscape of slag and soot, each morning catching a fleeting glimpse of a strange, hovering rectangle that dominates the city’s heart. The structure defies categorization—part crane, part water tower, part impossible geometry—its purpose hidden behind a veil of mist and industrial ruin. As the train hurtles into darkness, his curiosity battles the blur of fatigue and the hum of the rails, leaving him with a lingering, half‑remembered image that haunts his waking thoughts.

The novel follows Dewforth’s quiet obsession, his attempts to pin down the mystery of that enigmatic form, and the subtle ways it begins to infiltrate his routine. Through his eyes, listeners experience a world where the ordinary is cracked by lingering war‑torn decay, and where a single, inexplicable sight can spark a deeper questioning of reality. The story builds a tension between the mundane commute and the uncanny presence that seems to watch the city from above.