Chapter 1081

The aircraft ejected its parachute and 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 the special landmark building, the memorial island with a huge brass angel statue, was the same as that on the postcard. Maybe it was the residence of little girl Elizabeth, Although buck could only take a quick look through the narrow porthole, he had made up his mind to go to the memorial island.

Colombia is a city gathered by a large number of floating fortresses. The adjacent fortresses are connected by movable bridges. A large number of airships shuttle. The magnetic suction air rail can transport freight and armed personnel. The movable bridge, airship and air rail jointly build Colombia's transportation system.

The special spatial background makes the landscape of this miracle city very different from that of the ground city. The architectural style of the city is quite classic. The British architectural style in the Victorian period is very significant, and the Gothic European style is also reflected. The legacy of Greek and Roman architecture is inevitable. Without the Greek column and Roman dome, the classical architecture has no soul.

The mechanical structure of steam pipes and brass gears can be seen everywhere in the city. I think Colombia has a strong industrial heart.

Mr. Booker has never heard of such a miracle city. Perhaps it is really the promised land of God.

A large portrait of the prophet was pasted on the high-rise buildings in the city, and the Star Spangled Banner was as numerous as the flowers in spring. Seeing this scene, Mr. Booker had a simple guess in his heart.

The aircraft landed on the sky pier and embedded on the landing platform. Mr. Booker was brought into a Baptist Church by the descending mechanical platform.

When the hatch opened, the iron rings that bound his hands and feet automatically popped open, and Booker DeWitt muttered complaining words and rubbed his sore wrists. Generally speaking, it was a thrilling and special trip, and Mr. Booker finally had the opportunity to go down and see the scenery.

The Baptist Church is richly decorated. Booker has been to many places and has seen famous churches in Europe and America, but the prophet Baptist Church in Colombia is the only scenery. The prophet here is a middle-aged and elderly white man with white hair and beard. Booker guesses that he is definitely the political leader of the city. The social system of * * * * makes people dream back to ancient times. The good tempered Mr. Booker can't help but have the impulse to spit on the painted glass image on the wall.

Fortunately, after all, he was a kind man with a good temper, Mr. Booker, kept his dignity, but smiled and gently raised his middle finger to the prophet.

After a stroll on the upper floor of the church, Mr. Booker finally learned more about it. In fact, I know more about the family of the so-called prophets. The prophet has a wife, Mrs. Comstock. She's beautiful. He also had a child, who was called a lamb - Booker gazed at the child's painted glass portrait, and felt an unspeakable tenderness in his heart for a moment.

The light of the church is dim. In addition to the natural lighting through the glass, there are a large number of candles. The overall environment is quite dark and quiet, just like the heart of a meditator. There is knee high water on the ground, and the water surface is reflected like a mirror. The bottom is like the top, as holy as one. Mr. Booker was only glad that he was wearing high top rain boots, otherwise his socks would be uncomfortable if they were soaked.

The exit was at the lower level of the church. Mr. Booker almost lost his sense of direction in the dark church, but he still went all the way to the hall along with the singing of the long choir. The long, straight waterway is like a stream. At the end of the stream, the clergy in white gathered together to bow their heads and pray and listen to the praise and teachings of the priest.

The priest's voice was old but loud, echoing in the empty hall, and every praise he uttered was a noise attack on Mr. Booker.

He didn't want to listen to religious madmen at all, so he came to the end of the waterway, crossed the crowd and interrupted the priest's speech.

"Hey! How can I get out? "

The black robed Vatican no longer made a loud noise, but soon he welcomed Booker with joy, "is it new? From the lower city of Sodom... "

"Yes, yes, how can I get out of here?" Buck looked around at the clergy and noticed that they were all white, without exception.

Priest witting's lips were wide, and his fat and drooping cheeks wriggled slightly in the warm candlelight. The priest opposite Booker had a familiar impression. He seemed to have seen this man before. Before he could think about it carefully, the priest shouted, "the only way to Colombia is to be baptized in this holy water!"

So the poor good man Mr. Booker was pushed back into the water by the surprisingly strong old priest.

Gulu... Booker choked on the water and fainted.

Before he was unconscious, his last thought was: it's over. His socks are going to get wet.

In his gloomy dream, Mr. Booker returned to the detective office he operated many years ago. The room was still so clean and the table was still so messy. Someone was knocking hard at the door. The rude man outside the door shouted, "give that girl to us! Your debt will be written off! "

"I don't owe anyone!" Booker also loudly refuted.

People outside the door knocked more and more hurriedly, "open the door! Mr. DeWitt! Open the door! "

The man in the dream had no ability to reflect, so he really opened the door. Outside the door is New York. At night in New York, dozens of empty boats were dropping missiles into the city. There were people who exploded, burned and died everywhere. An airship turned to Booker's direction, and then huge missiles were fired at him. Booker was awakened by a missile in his dream. He woke up in Colombia. Finally set foot on this magical area, Booker's bad mood also improved. On this beautiful and sunny day, he had a hunch that he would be pleasantly surprised. Well, flowers, sunshine and lawns, busy businesses and hummingbirds feeding in the bushes, white couples, white newsboys, white vendors and white customers. Prophet statue, prophet portrait, prophet image, prophet audio-visual. Clouds and floating islands, airships and air rails, mechanical carriages and vending machines. Busy city, beautiful city, elegant city, rich city. Today seems to be a special festival. Mr. Booker observed. Without saying a word, he took off his raincoat, boots and wet white cotton socks on a bench in a square, and dried his well-defined feet. Passing women would cover their mouths and snicker, while men wished Mr. Booker a happy day. And the playful children, who told Booker that the holiday parade airship was coming, just at the end of the street ahead. He replied yes, everything is fine. Still observing the city. Observe without prejudice.