Hutch would not have used the term city to describe the area. It was more like an extended town, with villas and chalets that were simultaneously modest but alluring. Backyards were filled with children on swings and seesaws and a wide range of rotational devices. Giant brambles were everywhere. Lawns and vegetation weren’t maintained the way they normally were back home. Nature was apparently left to care for itself. Inhabitants sat in lawn chairs and on benches. They passed a lake with a handful of fishing boats.

“We live satisfying lives,” said Shalon. “We are able to invest our time doing things we enjoy, improving who we are, rather than simply struggling to sustain ourselves, as was the case in the ancient world. One reads the records of those primitive times and can’t help being grateful for all that we have. So many of those who lived during those years had no opportunity to indulge in leisurely activities. I can’t help suspecting that, when their short time in the sunlight ran out, they must have passed away with a sense of not having lived at all.”

They arrived eventually between twin buildings, five stories high. Each had what appeared to be plastic walls, large circular windows, and slanted rooftops. Their corners were curved. And a group of black-suited robots had gathered. It appeared that they had sealed off the area. Shalon pointed left: “That’s our city administrative center.” Three lines of exotic symbols were emblazoned on a sign beside the front doors. “And that one”—on the opposite side of the road—“is the Bokana Historical Repository.”

The car doors opened. They got out and walked toward the entrance. “Beautiful architecture,” Derek said.

Shalon smiled. He spoke to the doors and they opened. They went inside and the director said something to a blue box mounted on the wall to their right. The box responded: “We are pleased to welcome you, Director Kobay. And Derek Blanchard.” They proceeded down a short corridor into a large domed hall divided into numerous exhibits, mostly in glass cases. Lights were on everywhere. The area was empty, save for a few robots in gray uniforms.

The glass cases contained telescopes, cups, electronic equipment presumably from an earlier era, engraved blocks of stone, an assortment of guns, and numerous other artifacts. The walls were covered with artwork and portraits described by Shalon as historical figures, leaders, composers, scientists. There were also images of landscapes, space vehicles, and a nautical vessel arriving at a pier to a cheering crowd.

“What is that?” asked Derek.

“That is the Victory, coming in with a group of refugees who’d fled the notorious dictator, Selmin Kwerto. It’s from an era when we were engaged in our last major conflict.”

“A war?”

“Yes. Hundreds of thousands died. Fortunately, it was before we developed nuclear technology or we probably would have killed ourselves off. You know what nuclear technology is, of course?”

“Yes.”