About halfway up the block is a DocWagon clinic with metal bars arrayed across its façade of graffiti-covered windows. Brian wonders how the graffitoists got their paintguns in through the bars. Directly across from the clinic, jammed in between slum-rent apartment buildings, is a small structure that looks like it was carved out of a block of grayish bedrock. Brian guesses that’s where he’s supposed to go, based on his super’s descriptions, and pulls his car into an empty space at curbside.