"Mm, well, consider what you're about to see, and you'll have some idea. This is our stop." The Nexus site he indicates is a tavern, with the hanging-together fragments of a smashed chair mounted over the door.

Inside, the lighting is dim, the floor is only nominally clean, and although it's the Nexus equivalent of midmorning, a good third of the seats are occupied by sullen, long-term barflies. All this Schön ignores to cross straight to the bar, where he orders three pints of lager. As he lines them up, the bartender asks, "takin' the train out, today, Mr. Freund?"