Guffaws from the scaffolding, mumbles from the bottom. The mechanism was working exceedingly well.
On the north side was the rest house. A low building, about fifty meters wide and as deep as a regular pre-fabricated building, white from foundation to roof.
The kitchens were outdoors.
Twelve cooks took shifts every six hours. And everybody came up from below. Through a hole three meter wide through which, if one so wished, one could enter by a slide. Since a continuous maintenance had been projected, a small underground city had been built. A citadel. With dormitories and toilets, streets, and meeting places.
A little to the south, in the meantime, the vast subsimulacrum of the Touristique was being made. It was an Empire-style development, full of hotels and casinos, extending in a graceful curve reproducing, as seen from above, a laurel wreath.
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