The elevator stopped, and we got out.

"Look," I said, pointing to a sign, "it says viewing platform. Why don't we go up there to get a better look at the city and the people here?"

"I think that's a good idea," Isla agreed. "That will allow us to know which direction this tower is in and how to get there."

We quickly ascended the stairs. And more stairs. And yet more stairs.

As my legs began to ache, I began to wonder if we were already in the tallest tower.

We finally reached the small viewing platform, which was – thankfully – empty. I leaned on the brass railing and gazed over the numerous buildings and walkways.

There was brass and leather everywhere.

These people really needed to see a psychiatrist. There was no way that an obsession of this level was healthy.

"The gears on her dress are spinning." Corvus sounded completely perplexed as he looked down.

Indeed they were. In fact, all of the gears moved, and there were a lot of them. I wasn't even sure which of the dozens of women within our view he was talking about.

Most of the women wore dresses. All of them had gears and a plethora of buttons on their clothing. Not a single person within sight lacked goggles, except for my three friends and me.

Thankfully, no one was looking up here. We all just stood there, still trying to grasp the enormous culture gap we had stumbled across.

"How are they spinning?" Corvus mumbled, still gawking at the street below.

No one answered him. The silence allowed two voices below with British accents to reach us faintly.

"I believe I shall go over to the button shop and pick out another button or two to reflect my recent promotion."

"That is an excellent plan. Will you still be coming to the tea tasting gala? It will be starting shortly. I hear the host has a new version of the recliner chair present for the after tea naps." The woman fluttered her fan, seemingly short of breath.

"Ah, yes! I can't wait to try out those new chairs. Rumor has it that the professor has outdone himself again! I believe I need to obtain some extra buttons before going to such an important event."

They went into a nearby building, and the heavy brass door blocked their voices.

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," I mumbled.

"And we're even farther away from Earth and its styles," Isla added. "There is no way we can walk down the street like this without attracting a lot of unwanted attention."

"What is so fascinating about gears?" Arai asked, looking thoroughly confused, as only a guy can when confronted with an entirely new fashion trend. "They only weigh you down. Much like my sister's jewelry."

"Steampunk only uses steam and mechanical energy," Isla murmured, "so it's a symbol of pride for them. But I've never heard or seen anything like this before. It must just be this place that does it."

"From what we just overheard, the buttons must be some sort of sign of rank," I commented, wondering how we could get a hold of some buttons and gears on short notice. At this rate, I was going to need an entire list just to walk across the city.

Corvus watched another woman walking ponderously down the street and asked, "Why is she breathing funny? Actually, lots of them seem to be having problems."

Isla watched with narrowed eyes for a few long moments. "It's just the women, so it's likely a combination of the high altitude and a fainting device."

"A fainting device?"

"I think it's called a corset. Some primitive thing that supposedly makes you look thinner, but it mostly squishes your insides and reduces your lung capacity."

"Clam bikinis are far more sensible," Corvus muttered, shaking his head in bafflement.

I bit my lip to keep from snickering and saw Isla having the same battle.

Another evaluation of the city made my humor vanish. The air was slightly hazy with cooled steam, but the tallest tower was on the far side of the city. This was going to be a long journey.

"How are we going to get over there?" I wondered aloud.

"In most of the games I played," Arai said, "we sneak into a house, wait until someone comes in, and then ambush them for questioning. We'll be long gone before someone discovers them."

I gave him a look that clearly questioned his sanity. "Four people with axes and chainsaws hiding inside a house as they wait for a victim? I hate horror movies like those. I never know if the ambusher is going to succeed or not."

"But that's how you build up suspense."

"Well, half the time the ambusher doesn't survive to the end of the story."

"We'll manage because we're the good guys," he stated confidently.

"Are you sure about that? We are breaking into a city with axes and chainsaws."

Arai made a face but seemed to give up his terribly flawed plan. "You must have terrible taste in movies. The last one I watched like that had a lot of words scrolling up the screen at the end."

"You mean the credits?"

"I have no idea what they're called, but I never read them."

I wondered if I could trade him in for a bag of buttons, a handful of gears, and three sets of goggles. I hadn't been aware that I was supposed to make my volunteers take an IQ test before we left.

I gazed at the distant tower on the far side of the city and the narrow, twisted streets between us and it.

Tapping my finger against the brass railing, I murmured, "We almost need directions from a local."

"Why don't we look at those maps?" Arai asked.

"What map?" I asked, turning around.

He pointed to a bunch of booklets on a small brass table between two oversized wingback chairs. I jogged over to grab one of the pamphlets, flipping through the pages quickly. It was some sort of business listing for the entire city, including the most popular tea shops, the best routes, scenic detours, and seldom-used passageways for those who experienced a wardrobe malfunction or had their goggles fall to the streets below.

"Bingo." A grin spread across my face.

The four of us quickly spread out several maps as we focused on the hidden pathways. We borrowed some pens from the table and began plotting potential routes, occasionally going over to the railing to see how much traffic could be seen from here in certain areas.

"What are we going to do with these?" Isla asked, nudging a chainsaw with her foot.

I looked around and walked over to one of the wingback chairs. The leather covering the back part of the chair should be long enough to fit over a chainsaw.

Hoping no one saw me vandalizing the worn-out chairs, I used the edge of my axe to cut the binding strings. It took a bit of wiggling, but I got the covers off the backs of the two chairs.

My axe hadn't been designed to act as scissors, but it still allowed me to awkwardly hack through the leather and poke holes along the new seams. Within twenty minutes, Isla and I had managed to cut the material to the length of the chainsaws and lace up the sides.

To be honest, they looked like undersized body bags. The guys pulled the new covers over their chainsaws. It looked terrible, but at least they weren't obviously trying to hide a potential weapon.

I glanced over my shoulder at the stairwell. "Let's get going. I don't want to get arrested for destroying those chairs."

We quickly descended the staircase until we found the appropriate exit and entered the poorly lit corridor.

It was eerily empty, which was kind of what we had been hoping for, but it still made me uneasy. Decorative gears formed bizarre zigzag patterns on the walls. The dim light coming out from behind them cast eerie shadows.

I felt jittery with nerves and kept trying to ignore the weight of the cords digging into my right shoulder as they looped across my body to secure the end of the handle by my left hip.

Small windows showed glimpses of the outside world. The tightly packed buildings had no real order I could see. Tea cafes, pocket watch repair shops, stores filled with leather and gears, and more I couldn't identify.

Most buildings were tall, but the tower we wanted was – of course – all the way across the city. Why didn't they stick it in the middle like sensible people who lived in a floating, steam-covered, gear-obsessed, steampunk city?

Footsteps ahead made us slow down. The moment the lady saw us, she reached for her leather belt and grabbed something. I tensed and slipped my hand under my cloak, gripping the axe handle.

She whipped up a folding silk fan and shielded her face as she slipped by us on the far side of the tunnel.

We kept walking to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.

Once she was no longer in sight, Corvus remarked, "The gears on her dress weren't spinning."

His preoccupation with the moving dress accessories had finally paid off. Although this revelation only served to prove that gears alone weren't going to be good enough – they had to spin too.