"No problem," says Sharon, who would like to sleep for a week. She blinks in astonishment at the speed and silence of the train that arrives, then steps inside when Nakia gestures them all in. Instead of sitting, she goes to a window, which means she has a perfect view of when the train arrows out from the mountain's interior and into the golden late afternoon light of Wakanda.

And Wakanda is beyond beautiful. "Holy shit," Sharon whispers, staring. There's a city that looks half-built and half-grown, gleaming and organic, spires reaching into the sky, and there are wide golden fields and woods that look wholly untouched. "Nakia, it's beautiful."