It might be interesting to stay here, if they didn’t after all manage to thwart Curtis. To stay at the Peninsula, to sit in a comfortable chair by the window, and to watch the towers across the way begin to tremble, to shudder, then to fall to their knees, window panes snapping out into thin air like frightened hawks, walls dropping away, floors tilting, desks and filing cabinets and people sliding out into the world, then to feel the power ripple in this direction across the harbor, to see it come like a ghost in the water, to feel it tug at the landfill on this side, the buildings swaying, the yachts and junks and huge cargo ships all foundering and failing and staring with one last desperate gaze at the sky, then the harbor boiling, this very building bending down to kiss the sea…
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