Vol 8 Chapter 48: Prophet's City

The parachute was ejected from the aircraft, and it floated across several streets and floating islands in Colombia. The beautiful scenery along the way made Mr. Booker, a hillbilly from New York, dazzled. He noticed that special landmark building and stood upright. The memorial island with the huge brass angel statue is the same as on the postcard. It may be the residence of Little Elizabeth. Although Booker can only look through the narrow porthole, he has already made up his mind to go to the memorial island. Check it out.
Colombia is a city clustered by a large number of floating fortresses. The adjacent fortresses use movable bridges as a connecting channel. A large number of airships shuttle between each other. The magnetic air rail can carry cargo and armed personnel. The movable bridge, airship and air rail are jointly constructed. The Colombian transportation system.
The special spatial background makes the landscape and planning of this miraculous city very different from that of the ground city. The architectural style of the city is quite classic. The British architectural style of the Victorian period is very significant, and the Gothic European style is also reflected in many cases. The legacy of Greco-Roman architecture is naturally indispensable. Without the Greek columns and Roman domes, the classical architecture would be gone. soul.
The mechanical structure of steam pipes and brass gears can be seen everywhere in the city. I want to come to Colombia to have a strong industrial heart.
Mr. Booker has never heard of such a city of miracles. Perhaps this is really the promised land of God.
Large-scale portraits of prophets are posted on the tall buildings of the city, and the stars and stripes are as numerous as spring flowers. Seeing this scene, Mr. Booker already had a simple guess in his heart.
The aircraft landed on the sky dock and was fitted on the landing platform, and Mr. Booker was taken into a baptistery church by the descending mechanical platform.
The hatch opened, and the iron rings that bound his hands and feet automatically bounced away. Booker DeWitt murmured complaining words and rubbed his sore wrist. All in all, it was a thrilling and special trip, and Mr. Booker finally had the opportunity to walk down and take a look at the scenery.
The decoration of the Baptistery Church is gorgeous and solemn. Booker has visited many places and has seen famous churches in Europe and America, but the Baptistery Church of the Prophet in Colombia is a unique scenery. The prophet here is a middle-aged white man with white hair and white beard. Booker guesses that he is definitely the political leader of this city. The social system of is what makes people dream of ancient times. There is an urge to spit on the stained glass on the wall.
Fortunately, he was a good-tempered Mr. Booker after all. He kept his decency, but only raised his to the Prophet with a gentle smile.
After wandering on the upper floors of the church for a while, Mr. Booker finally learned more about it. In fact, it means to learn more about the family of the so-called Prophet. The Prophet has a wife, Mrs. Comstock, who is pretty. He also had a child. The child was called a lamb. Booker stared at the stained glass portrait of that child, and for a moment he felt an indescribable sense of intimacy.
The church’s light is dim. Except for the natural lighting through the glass, there are a lot of candles. The overall environment is quite dim, as quiet as the atrium of a meditator. There are knee-high water on the ground, and the water is reflected like a mirror. Above, holy as one. Mr. Booker was just fortunate that he was wearing high-top rain boots, otherwise it would be uncomfortable to get soaked socks.
The exit was on the lower floor of the church. Mr. Booker almost lost his sense of direction in this dim church, but following the long and long singing of the choir, he went all the way to the hall. The long, straight water channel was like a stream. Standing at the end of the stream, clergymen in white robes gathered together and bowed their heads in prayer, listening to the priests’ praises and teachings.
The priest's voice was old but loud, echoing in the empty hall, and every compliment uttered was a noise attack on Mr. Booker.
He didn't want to listen to the religious madman's speech, so he came to the end along the waterway, through the crowd, and interrupted the priest's speech.
"Hey! How can I get out, please?"
The Witting priest in black no longer made loud noises, but soon he greeted Booker happily, "Is it a newcomer? From the lower city of Sodom..."
"Yes, yes, how can I get out of here?" Booker looked around the clergy and noticed that they were all white, without exception.
Priest Witting had wide lips, and his plump and drooping cheeks squirmed slightly in the warm candlelight. Booker had a familiar impression of the priest in front of him. He seemed to have seen this person before. Before he could think about it carefully, the priest Chanted, "The only way to Colombia is to be baptized in this holy water!"
So the poor good fellow Mr. Booker was pushed back into the water by the strangely powerful old priest.
Gululu... Booker choked water and then fainted.
His last thought before going into a coma was: it's over, the socks are going to be soaked.
In a drowsy dream, Mr. Booker returned to the detective office he ran many years ago. The room was still so clean, the desk was still so messy, someone was knocking on the door hard, and the rude man outside shouted, "Fuck that girl. Give it to us! Your debt will be written off!"
"I owe no debt to anyone!" Booker also retorted loudly.
The people outside the door knocked more and more hurriedly, "Open the door! Mr. DeWitt! Open the door!"
The person in the dream did not have the ability to reflect, so he really opened the door.
Outside the door is New York. At night in New York, dozens of airships are dropping missiles into the city. There are exploding, burning, and dead people everywhere. An airship turns to Booker's direction, and then huge missiles are fired at him. Come.
Booker was awakened by the missile in his dream.
He woke up in Colombia.
Finally set foot on this magical place~EbookFREE.me~ Booker's bad mood has also improved. On this bright and sunny day, he has a hunch waiting for him.
Well, flowers, sunshine and lawns, bustling businesses and hummingbirds in the bushes, white couples, white newsboys, white vendors and white customers. Prophet statue, prophet portrait, prophet video, prophet audiovisual. Clouds and floating islands in the sky, airships and air railroad tracks, mechanical carriages and vending machines. Busy city, beautiful city, elegant city, rich city.
Today seems to be a special holiday.
Mr. Booker observed, he did not say a word, took off his raincoat and rain boots on a bench in a square, took off his soaked white cotton socks, and dried his bony feet well. The ladies passing by will cover their mouths and snicker, while the men wish Mr. Booker a happy day. There are also playful children, who told Booker that the holiday parade airship is coming, just at the end of the street ahead.
He replied that everything was fine.
Still observing the city.
Observe without prejudice.