It was bleak in all directions. The sun was beating down on the scorched open grassland. An occasional withered tree punctured the monotony, but they were few and far between. On the horizon, shimmering through the heat haze, was a range of purple-grey mountains. One of the hills was moving. Elliot concluded it was an illusion, a trick of the heat. To their right, the elevated train tracks curved on an immense stone viaduct towards a tunnel that bored into the nearest mountain. Each stone arch was carved in the profile of two elephant heads facing away from each other. Their trunks formed the columns of the vast bridge. Except the viaduct did not appear to be bridging anything. The ground far below was bare. Not so much as a stream trickled beneath them. They could not understand the need for such a structure.