Hiroshima is a strange city: it’s got high-art architecture with cathedral-esque sweeping domes and balustrades, but that’s mixed with heavy industrialization. The buildings are old and artistic, but there’s a monorail and horseless carriage (which run despite Mr Ceiling being down.) About 15 years ago, it was a middling trading city but then heavily embraced air travel and have since become a major trans-Pacific trading hub. There’s a fair amount of air travel even now, primarily in the form of dirigibles.
The city is booming in comparison to the dourness of Cairo and Okinoshima, although behind closed doors, lots of people are worried about people in other parts of the world.
The city’s clientele is varied. It’s still gnome-heavy, but there are many other sapient races around, of all creeds and colours. At least one gnome is walking around in a homemade mech. The city is quite full; since it’s on of the few ports that’s open during the apocalypse, trade has shifted here.
There’s a financial district, but most of the city is not segmented (for example, there’s no “religious quarter.”) There’s a “fairly significant park" and a library.
A nice hotel overlooking the river with a bakery on the ground floor, and suites for everyone. It’s one of the few with a “large” suite, designed for people even taller than Azu. The rooms are comfortable, well-appointed, well-maintained. It puts many of the other cities Hamid’s stayed at to shame; they have electric (not gas) lights and hot, high pressure running water on demand.
The bakery is also a restaurant, and a decent business in its own right; it’s one of the best boulangeries in the city, and a big tourist draw. They serve excellent cakes.
Tahan & Zalia’s
Located in the financial district. Resembles a Tahan branch, but has different artwork and lettering. Zalia has historically been a key competitor of the Tahans. The bank is trialing an ATM that’s very large and easy to exploit for someone like Cel.
Temple of Aphrodite
More corporate and “blank” than other temples of Aphrodite, but still set up as a hospital. The hospital’s not overwhelmed with people, but the temple’s awash with light from the number of candles people have lit in concern for people.
The aeroport is a hub of activity, filled with crowds of people. It resembles the one in Paris in terms of layout, but is about twice the size. The entrance to the aeroport is big and flashy. The concourse, populated by the public, is shiny and guilded, and the private back end less so. There’s a series of corridors leading to the large flat launching area outside, where the hangars are located. Many of the hangars contain derelict airships, such as a deflated dirigible or an aerocopter with no blades.
Flying Noodle Monster
A small family-run noodle house just around the corner from the aeroport; most people there are on business travel, just grabbing a quick bite.
Located in a part of the city with lots of shoddy walls thrown up between buildings to created half-hearted indoor spaces. It’s a grimy, filthy hotel that’s more like a glorified squat-house. It doesn’t have anyone at the entrance or a lock on the front door; the kind of place a sailor would go to if they got robbed while in port and had nowhere to go.
Inside, it’s overcrowded despite there being no housing shortage in Hiroshima; the hotel’s not a place for people to settle or raise families, but for people who have fallen through the cracks. There are people sleeping in the corridors a lot of missing doors. There’s basic plumbing and (unusually for the city) unlit gas lamps; it’s cramped but not claustrophobic. The hotel was once a townhouse that has been subdivided by necessity, not desire. There are about 60 people living there.
Up a narrow set of staircases, there's the garret, where Earhart's room is located.
One of the few rooms that still has a door. Hammered on the door is a label that was on the door of Earhart’s ship; it reads “captain,” and the rest is scorched away and willfully scratched out. There's a trap: multiple shotguns pointing to the entrance on a string.
The room is a garret with a gabled roof. There’s a window at the opposite end, though there are newspapers and cloth plastered up on it. There is stuff everywhere; it looks like a nest. It smells like someone’s been staying here far too much. Near the window is a blown-out, moth-eaten mattress with a pile of blankets in one corner. One of the walls of the room is pockmarked with bullet holes.
Earhart's personal effects in the room include: a clean set of captain’s gear, except for soot marks and charring on one part (it doesn’t appear to have been worn or cleaned since it was damaged); the remnants of an elaborate captain’s hat; a shattered pair of goggles; a crate of spent ammunition; a stash of cans, only a few of which are still useable; and a ship’s manifest.