At least seven neighborhoods in GLMZ are visible on satellite imagery and show up on BCI navigation overlays, but cannot be physically entered from street level. They appear on every overhead scan. They resolve on every orbital pass. They have streets, buildings, alleys, and rooftops arranged in patterns consistent with inhabited urban space. Some appear to have residents — thermal imaging shows heat signatures moving through interiors on diurnal cycles consistent with human habitation. Power consumption registers on the Ouroboros grid. Water flows into them. Waste heat radiates from them. The blocks exist. You just can't get to them.

People call them the Lost Blocks, and most residents of GLMZ assume it's a mapping error — a glitch in the BCI overlay, a satellite calibration problem, an artifact of outdated cartographic data being layered over current infrastructure. It's not a mapping error. The satellite images are current. The buildings are real. The walls separating them from the rest of the city are real. And the walls have no doors.

Seven confirmed Lost Blocks have been documented as of 2226: Linden Block, the Caulfield Pocket, Block 19-South, the Meridian Fold, Ghost Acres, the Threshold Wedge, and Sector 11-East. Each displays the same fundamental characteristic — visible from above, inaccessible from the ground. Each has been surveyed, photographed, thermally mapped, and confirmed to contain structures, infrastructure, and what appear to be occupants. Each is surrounded by continuous, unbroken walls with no entrances, no service doors, no utility access points, and no evidence that entrances ever existed.

The Lost Blocks are not abandoned. They are not ruins reclaimed by the city's growth. They are active, maintained, inhabited spaces that happen to be unreachable by any known means of ground-level access. The Ouroboros grid logs show steady power consumption across all seven — not the flat draw of empty buildings on standby, but the variable, peaking, cycling consumption pattern of occupied space. Somebody in there is turning lights on and off. Somebody is cooking. Somebody is running equipment. The grid doesn't know who. The grid doesn't care. It delivers power to coordinates, and the coordinates draw power, and the bills are paid in bulk through accounts that trace to holding entities with no public registration.

Most people in GLMZ don't think about the Lost Blocks. The city has enough visible problems without worrying about invisible ones. But for those who look — cartographers, urban researchers, the occasional delivery driver whose route used to go through one of them — the Lost Blocks are a wound in the geometry of the city. A place where the map and the territory disagree, and the territory is winning.