Senator Geoffrey Higgins's black Cadillac stopped at the entrance to Erie City.
Even through the double-paned, soundproof glass and over the soothing classical music playing in the car, he could still hear the commotion outside.
Higgins frowned and lowered the window.
A thick, acrid smell immediately hit him.
It was a choking odor. For this Rust Belt city, which had been stagnant for twenty years, the smell was frighteningly unfamiliar.
He took off his sunglasses and squinted, looking ahead.
The industrial park, once abandoned due to factory closures, had now been transformed into a massive construction site.
Yellow dust nets stretched for miles, and dozens of tower cranes loomed against the gray sky, their massive arms swinging busily.
Countless trucks, laden with steel and concrete, formed a long queue on a makeshift access road, the mud splattered on their sides still wet.
