Shifting his backpack, Emile stepped off the slidewalk at Immigration, and breezed past Customs as if their guards and fences were merely decorations. Stunned faces were everywhere and nobody made a move to stop him. Walking through a lobby, he bypassed the elevators going to Old Dome and proceeded onto a bare promenade. The Low Dome spread out before him, and Emile was forced to blink away his distorted vision. But that didn't help it as it had before. He still saw the world as mixed images, a dozen facets of the shifting skyline, the moving buildings, the shifting dome overhead.