Time Scout by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Pleasant fountains and pools splashed under the perpetual glow of the Commons’ lights. The occasional flash of color against blue-tiled fountains betrayed the presence of exotic fish kept to graze the algae. Urbs Romae’s floor was a colorful patchwork of mosaics in the ancient style, most of them put together by the enterprising merchants whose shops bordered them. Signs shrouded the walls at random intervals, while staircases stretched upward past storefronts and hotel windows to unpredictable levels along the walls.

Some ramps and catwalks were still under construction or at least seemed to be. A number ended in blank stretches of concrete wall, while others reached islands that floated four and five stories above the main floor, supported by open strut work like scaffolding around a cathedral under reconstruction. A few ramps and stairways stretched from scattered spots to end in thin air, leaving one to wonder whether they led up to something invisible or down from a hole out of nothing.

Malcolm grinned. First impressions of Shangri-la left most visitors convinced the time terminal’s nickname, La-La Land, came from the lunatic walks to nowhere.

Large signs bordered several blank stretches, where balconies and catwalks had been screened off with chain link fencing that made no pretense of blending in with the rest of Urbs Romae. The signs, in multiple languages, warned of the dangers of unexplored gates. The fencing wasn’t so much to keep things from wandering in. as to keep other things from wandering out. The signs, of course, were a legal precaution. Most tourists weren’t stupid enough to wander through an open portal without a guide. But there had been casualties at other stations and lawsuits had occasionally been filed by bereaved families. Residents of TT-86 were grateful for their own station manager’s precautions.