I’m almost getting used to the idea of waking up in strange places from time to time. This time I wake in the depths of the underworld, one of the Lost Stations of the T system. It’s like the Market, but is a place I’ve never seen before and never want to see again. Once quite proud and elegant, the old art-deco platform and archways are now corroded by a century or more of dust and decay, the black and white tile floor cracked and discolored. I can smell the strong musty odors of rust, dust, and oil in the dimness of the place.