Tilly glances at him. ‘But don’t you think their fragility makes them adorable?’ She looks back at the people, her eyes shining with idolisation.
‘It is so quiet,’ I say, lifting my eyes skyward. There’s no air traffic here. How do the city folk get around? As soon as I pose this question, I see the answer. Green carriages are floating up and down the hills via cables, like the cable cars of old. They blend into the trees, coasting along silently. Other people are riding vehicles—four seats encased in a soft green shell on wheels. From what I can tell, they appear to be running on pedal power, and given the ease with which they are travelling uphill, I assume they are also tapping into solar power. No noise accompanies them, no pollution.
I breathe in the air and take pleasure in its sal
