Imca: ... what is that thing?
Eisenhart: It appears to be some sort of monument. Given its shape, I would guess that it is meant to symbolize fertility.
Imca: .... Most human buildings share that shape.
Eisenhart: Really? I was not aware of that. Human architecture must be very phallic then.
(Imca motions to the skyscrapers and sweatdrops)
Eisenhart: ...by Tyrion's Nose, you are right!
Eisenhart: It appears to be some sort of monument. Given its shape, I would guess that it is meant to symbolize fertility.
Imca: .... Most human buildings share that shape.
Eisenhart: Really? I was not aware of that. Human architecture must be very phallic then.
(Imca motions to the skyscrapers and sweatdrops)
Eisenhart: ...by Tyrion's Nose, you are right!
The young couple had parked their flying car outside the automat, which offered a breathtaking view of the gleaming white city stretching to the horizon like a vast laundromat. Hyperboloid towers pulsated with powerful atomic energies, zeppelins moored with chrome spires that pierced the clouds; a brobdingnagian ziggurat challenged the gods to ban the universal translator. Rivers of people swarmed over skybridges and packed the electrams. Neon fantasies played across edifying cliffs of glass and marble, inscribed with the wisdom of famous philosophers. Jet-propelled trains raced through transparent tunnels into block-spanning megastructures, while gyropter taxis flew suicidal flight paths through blinding searchlights and windy concrete canyons.
