Each sidewalk was divided in two parts. On the outside only people going in one direction, on the inside only people going in the opposite direction could coast. Collisions, therefore, were impossible. If a person rolling on the outside wished to enter a store, it was necessary to go to the end of the block, and then turn to the left, which brought him on the inside of the sidewalk where he could roll up to his destination. Of course, this was only necessary when the sidewalk was crowded, nothing preventing one's crossing it if but few people were on the block.
The trolley car had long since become obsolete as well as the gasoline-driven automobile. Only electromobiles carrying either passengers or freight were to be seen. Each vehicle was equipped with a short collector mast by means of which the electrical energy was conveyed to the motors. The wheels of all vehicles were rubber-covered. This accomplished two purposes: one to insulate the vehicle from the metallic street, the other to minimize the noise to the greatest extent.
Although Alice had had a good scientific training, some of the wonders of New York amazed her and she, as strangers had done for centuries, asked questions continuously, while her companion eagerly explained everything with a pleasure peculiar to the New Yorker, loving his town.
"What are those strange spiral wire affairs hanging high over all street crossings?" was one of her first questions.
"Those illuminate our streets at night," was the answer. "They are iridium wire spirals, about ten meters in diameter, hanging forty meters up in the air, at the intersection of all our streets. This evening you will see how the entire spiral will glow in a pure white light which is absolutely cold. The wire throws out the light, and after sundown you will find that the streets will be almost as light as they are now. Each spiral furnishes over one-half million candlepower, consequently one is needed only where streets intersect, except on very long blocks, when a smaller spiral is hung in the middle."
Presently, while crossing a large square they passed Meteoro-Tower No. 26, of the seventh district, and Ralph at once launched off into praise of it.
"While you of other countries have a good weather service, we in New York boast of having the finest climate of any town on the face of the globe. As you may imagine, our weather-engineers always have difficult work, owing to the peculiar shape of the city, geographically as well as physically. The tall spires and buildings make the work exceptionally hard, as the air currents are extremely erratic over the city and very hard to control. We now have sixty-eight Meteoro-Towers, all of various power, in Consolidated New York. These are scattered over a radius of ninety miles from the City Governor's Building, and control the weather as well as the temperature of New York's two hundred million inhabitants.
"You may look at a thermometer any time during the year and you will find it invariably pointing at fifty units.[2] There is never an excess of humidity in our air and life is made enjoyable for the hard-working city dwellers, thanks to our well-trained weather engineer corps.
"During the daytime rain or snow is unheard of. There is continuous sunshine during the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. Between two and three each morning it rains for exactly one hour. This is done to freshen the air and to carry the dust away. It is the only rain New York ever gets and it seems to be sufficient for all purposes."
When it neared noon Ralph escorted his companion to a luxurious eating place, which across its entrance bore the name Scienticafé. "This is one of our best restaurants, and I think you will prefer it to the old-fashioned masticating places," he told her.