It lay in a broad hollow, a large, irregular circular bowl surrounded by gently sloping hillsides. The bowl was entirely filled by water--a broad flat lake of silver which from this height showed us its pearly bottom. On the water--seen from above--the houses seemed floating--clusters of lily pads on a placid shining pool. They were, in reality, flat cubical buildings solidly built of rectangular blocks of stone, standing just above the water level on solid stone foundations. Always green and white--stones like blocks of smooth, polished marble, set in green and white patterns. Balconies and cornices of what might have been gleaming, beaten copper. Flat roofs, edged with scarlet flowers. Some of the buildings were low and small. Others of several stories, pretentious and ornate. One very large, like a palace, standing alone on its verdant island. The houses were mostly gathered in clusters of various shapes and sizes. Yet a semblance of order prevailed. Winding streets of open water lay between the groups. There were trellised walks and arching spider bridges, sometimes over the streets, sometimes joining one house to another. Here and there I saw lagoons of open water, dotted with small green islands like parks--islands on which the vegetation grew far higher and more luxuriant than any even in the tropics of our Earth. Vegetation always under careful training and control. Profuse with flowers, vivid and gigantic. The houses too, were roofed with gardens--sometimes with pergolas and trellises of the aerial scarlet blossoms. Occasionally--these latter details I observed as we descended close upon the city--I saw houses with a tiny swimming pool on the roof--a private pool hidden in masses of colored flowers. A playground--the playground of Venus. It seemed very backward--uncivilized. And then Wolfgar pointed out the surrounding hillsides. On them, cleared of their vegetation, our modern civilization stood gaunt and efficient. Towers, aerials, landing stages, aerial trams, factories, tall stacks over the dynamo houses belching thick black smoke, which artificial wind-generators carefully blew away from the city. In the midst of their hillside ring of necessary modernity, the people of the Great City had kept their playground inviolate. Work, science, industry--all necessary. But the real business of life was pleasure. Art, music, beauty.... And I am not far from thinking that unless abused, their formula is better than ours. CHAPTER XVII _Violet Beam of Death_