Fall through
the glass tower.
You start above the roof, looking straight down the atrium. As you scroll, the camera drops floor by floor through a skyscraper at night — offices rushing up past the lens.
The roof,
then the sky.
A dusk-blue horizon, a beacon or two, and a square well of darkness opening down the middle. The fall begins here.
Lit windows,
a city beyond.
Past the upper floors the glass glows warm and cool — offices left on for the night — and far away, a whole skyline of small lights burns through the fog.
Desks, partitions,
empty chairs.
Mid-building the detail arrives: slabs and columns, blocks of furniture scattered across each floor, all sliding upward as you keep dropping.
Down the
open core.
The atrium is a hollow shaft running the full height of the tower. You plunge straight through it, floors flickering by on every side.
The lobby
glows gold.
Near the ground the light turns warm and bright — a lobby, a floor, an arrival — before the last of it fades into the dark of the foundation.
of your own?