Fantasy fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction
"I ought to feel flattered at such world-wide reputation," returned
Cobb, modestly; "but I am tired of it, and wish to be a man born in the
period."
The conversation continued, and the object of Cobb's visit to the city
was fully explained.
Stepping to a book-case, Mr. Doane took a large book from a shelf, and,
opening it upon a table, displayed a map of the city of America and its
immediate vicinity.
"There is a map of the city, Mr. Cobb," he said, "and you can follow
me as I explain to you the reasons why the city has been so laid out,
and in such an extraordinary fashion. America is a city of about
125,000 souls. The plan of the city is very peculiar indeed, but
made with the one view of bringing the employés of the system into
little communities near the place of their occupation. It resembles a
portion of a great checkerboard, eight squares long by six in breadth.
Each square is a half-mile in length and breadth, and has an area
of one-quarter of a square mile. Four of these squares is called a
section, making twelve sections, or twelve square miles in the city.
Each section is divided into eight triangles of equal shape and area
by diagonals from its corners. Thus there are in the city five great
streets, each four miles in length, extending from one extreme to the
other, or east and west; seven streets two miles in length running
north and south, and the diagonal streets. Electric cars run on all
the streets except the diagonals. All of these streets are 200 feet
wide, and paved with gray glass. Each triangle is cut into streets of
100 feet in width, running north and south for the north and south
triangles, and east and west for the others, and contain about 400
houses. Thus there are in each section 3,200 houses for employés. Each
house occupies an area of fifty feet front by 100 feet in depth. In the
center of each section is a beautiful but small park. Four large, grand
buildings of six stories each face this park, occupying the apices of
the eight triangles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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