"...They're different places," he says after a moment of fighting with it, because it sounds right. The white marble bridge and the maroon and glowing gold below don't go together. "The place below... I don't think I ever saw it from anywhere but above."

Below, the machine in the center of the pathways (which looks not so much like a machine as a giant, floating stone tuning fork) begins to bob in place the way the record player feels like it should.