The exact geographic center of the land-wide plate lay in the center of the Grand Plaza of Haven-Hold.
Beneath the polished granite paving stones was solid, unbending quartz bedrock.
At six o’clock in the morning, three thousand engineers, master masons, land-mappers, and rail foremen stood in total silence around the outer edge of the plaza.
Behind them, forty thousand citizens packed the surrounding balconies, rows of stone pillars, and rooftops.
Not a single person cheered.
The hush was that of a cathedral before the first organ chord.
In the open center of the plaza, Giles Croft knelt on one knee beside the brass datum marker.
He wasn’t bowing in prayer or homage.
