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:
Four Hundred and Fifty Thousand Billions—Wolf Turber's price—payable in minted gold, silver, platinum and ancient jewels.
And then:
Council of Ten in Session. Turberites' Ultimatum expected soon.
We flashed into a black vacuum tube. It was a trip of perhaps ten minutes. We emerged into an area where the city was less congested. Descended to a trestle near the ground. The roof was lower. In places it was gone. I saw the daylight—a gray overcast summer day. This was the morning of June 12, 2445 A.D.
Alan whispered: "This must be about Tarrytown. There's the river."
To the left we saw the Hudson. A solid ground level of metal buildings spread beneath us. Only the streets were roofed over here. Streets were laid out in orderly parallels. Our single car sped above them, flashing over switches.