It's always sunny in Right New York.
The sunlight is harsh. The streets are wide. Not much shade.
It's pretty dang loud in Right New York, because there are a lot more cars. Everyone is in their car, hightailing it to who knows where. Or they would be hightailing, if there were fewer cars on the wide, wide roads. Somehow, no matter how much you widen a road, it fills up with cars, and everything slows down and gets gummed up.
There aren't many places to sit down in Right New York. The benches are few and far between, and the spaces where you'd normally find beggars have spikes poking up from the ground. The low walls running around the fancy plazas are slick and sloped, so you can't park your rear on those. Just gotta keep moving.
The towers gleam and cast even brighter light onto the sidewalks. Hope you have enough money to buy a hat. Nobody will give you theirs. You'd better hope you found this place in the winter. The sunlight won't cook you then. It will still burn.
In Right New York, every other street is an elevated highway. They cast some shade, but if you try to get under them, you have to climb over a chain link fence. There aren't many free passages beneath them.
If you can afford the admission, why not duck into a nice cool museum? You can visit exhibit after exhibit of Socialist Realism. Don't worry about the bathrooms, those are free. Suspiciously clean as well. In fact, no matter how many of these bathrooms you go into, you will never see another person in them.
Then take a stroll around Midtown and find a nice bar, where they're selling ice water for $2 per glass. They insist it is the best water in the world. One wonders how they know.
If you are on the sidewalk in Downtown, keep moving. The police are always on the lookout for homeless beggars. They should not worry. You will never see a homeless beggar in Right New York. Your money will go to more worthy causes. Like the subway. You will, eventually, scream and throw your hat on the ground, and rush down the stairs of the nearest station.
There, beneath the bright flourescent lights, you will find a crowded mass of people. All of them attempted to endure the streets on foot. All failed. Except the guy with the banjo. He's just here to provide mood music. Loud mood music. Do you like Earl Scruggs, by any chance?
You can swear the lights are flickering. It's almost too fast to see, but they appear to be flickering. And giving off a faint whine, which becomes more audible whenever the banjo stops playing.
It's hot and humid, down here, with all the body heat. Did the vents stop working? Are there any vents?
If you ask someone when the train will come, they will say they've been waiting a while. Nobody can remember when the last train came.
Having experienced that mess, why not take a stroll up to Midtown and the Empire State Building? Ride the elevator up to the observation deck and look out at the vast expanse of Manhattan. Isn't it beautiful? All marble and alabaster and glass towers, gleaming in the sunlight. Look over at Brooklyn. They've done it up in pink granite and limestone. Look out at the Bronx. It's all white brick and blue glass. Oh, whomever designed this city must have been a grand visionary.
There are still trees on Staten Island, for some reason. Thank goodness it's obscured by the mist from the sea.
Queens is mostly the Dome. There are a lot of electrical flashes visible through the glass of the top section. There's only one door in, though, so whatever happens in there is contained. I think.
Nobody is sure why this version of new York City exists. I've heard people mutter about Robert Moses, and that this was what he envisioned. But that's silly. Moses preferred concrete walls. So what happened here? Maybe this is a possible future for the city, if certain trends continue past the point where they would usually turn back. Left New York is always a step behind the Center, after all. What if this is a few steps ahead?
But my personal hypothesis is that some bright fellow in the 1930s designed this all in one piece, as an architechtural model to sell to the city planners. Maybe even to Robert moses himself. It's all a little too organized and unified for a place like New York City, after all. Imagine anyone getting the Center to agree on a single architectural design!
I think the fellow's model was somehow realized all at once, with some manner of hocus-pocus, or some kind of ritual. It had to be all at once. Anything longer would have invited argument and rebellion, and there would probably be an ugly red brick building along one of these streets.
Whatever happened, it's irreversible now. Magic just slides off this place. I've never seen a magical being here. It would be like a bacterium in a bag of salt.
What's that? You want to LEAVE? but this place is so clean and perfect!
Fine. Take the ferry to Staten Island. Touch one of the trees and wish yourself home.
Good luck, and be sure to say hi to Lily Two-Rivers for me.
The Ferry costs money, by the way.