into focus unbearabaly sharp and clear,burning yellow brand of junk searing the grey haunch of a milion screaming junkies. ” This will  last a month,” he decided, consulting an invisible mirror. All streets of the City slope down between deepending canyons to a vast, kidney-shaped plaza full of darkness.Walls of street and plaza are perforated by dwelling cubicles and cafès, some a few feet deep, others extending out of  sight in network of rooms and corridors. At all levels criss-cross of bridges, cat walks, cable cars. Catatonic youths dressed as a women in growns of burlap and rotten rags, faces heavily and crudely painted in bright colors over a strata of beatings, arabesques of broken,suppurating scars to the pearly bone, push against the passer-by in silent clinging insistence. Traffickers in the Black Meat, flesh of the giant acquatic black centipede-sometimes attaining a lenght of six feet- found in a lane of black rocks and iridescent,brown lagoons,exhibit paralyzed crustaceans in camouflage pockets of the Plaza visible only to the Meat Eaters.Followers of obsolete unthinkable trades, doodling  in Etruscan, addicts of drugs not yet synthesized, black  marketeers of World War III, excisors of telepathic  sensitivity, osteopaths of the spirit, investigators of  infractions denounced by bland paranoid chess players,  servers of fragmentary warrants taken down in hebephrenic shorthand charging unspeakable mutilations of  the spirit, officials of unconstituted police states, brokers