And the city was shining.
That was the only way to describe it. The sleek sides of the huge buildings gleamed brightly in the warm daylight.
As Kesley looked out, it seemed to him as if so many thousand-foot mirrors blinked back at him.
He stepped back inside. Daveen had not moved.
"You've never seen Antarctica, have you?" Kesley asked.
The poet smiled. "I know what it must be like. How do you feel?"
Kesley thought of the shining towers and compared them with the squat tenements of Chicago and Buenos Aires. "It's an incredible city."
"Yes," Daveen said.
With sudden bitterness Kesley said: "Why does the Antarctican Duke keep that barrier up? Why doesn't he invite the world down here to see what he has? Why must ninety percent of mankind live in squalor?"
"They want it that way," Daveen pointed out.