I saw fifty feet up the tiers of sidewalks, a street of open-faced shops with merchandise on display. The narrow viaducts were a lacework of metal overhead. The city roof above them glowed with light--I think it was daytime. Alan said: "There ought to be an official." The milling crowd was mostly men. All garbed in sober colors--black and grays. Hatless, with close-clipped bullet heads. Close-fitting trousers with legs like jointed stove-pipes; short black jackets. Women with dark skirts like inverted funnels; hair close-clipped. An official in white appeared. A roaring electrical megaphone on his chest magnified his voice. The crowd scattered obediently. He waded through it. He stood near us and roared at the congesting traffic. A halted swinging train above us, moved along. Signal lights flashed. The tangle of vehicles began struggling to sort itself out. Other officials--all in white uniforms--showed on the bridges, and in small rostrums on the different levels. A magnetic crane swung out into the air. It seized an offending vehicle--lifted it clear of the jam. The officer gripped us. "Come with me." English, readily understandable, yet wholly strange. I cannot set it down here. I cannot approximate its swift brevity--its suggestion of eliminated syllables; its close-clipped intonations. Compared with it, our own speech was ancient, flowing and flowery. "Come--" "We're friends," said Alan hastily. "Don't hurt us--take us to your government headquarters. You can do that, can't you?" The fellow stared. Astonished, I think, at Alan's strangely antiquated English. "They have already sent for you," he said. "Come." He led us swiftly away. The crowd stared after us. Into a small tunnel. A lighted car whirled us aloft. It passed endless floors--or streets, or tiers. People everywhere. The car stopped its vertical movement; it rolled sidewise upon a track. Our captor spoke into a mouth-piece on his chest. I heard the answering voice. "Room 400--tier 8 Tappan Government House, Westchester, Section 6 N. W." "Yes," he said. He repeated it to the operator of our car who sat at a switch. The microscopic voice added: "Bring them." "Coming now." * * * * * Our car whirled off, along a track; went over bridges of glaring, tumultuous streets; through vaulted passages of buildings where behind transparent panes I could see what seemed busy commercial offices; up a long incline until I fancied we were almost under the roof-- Looming spires were now beneath us--streets and house-tops; then a great building through which we plunged along a lighted passage. Rooms with busy workers were everywhere. This giant beehive! I heard once above the mingled commotion of sounds: "Turberites expect to buy city--" A broadcasting voice; and as we sped over a bridge, dangling now from a single overhead track, I saw in the blur of light far beneath us a giant oblong area of light, with moving letters. A news-bulletin. I read: