Of course, it’s also a sundial.

Needless to say, no foliage planned or planted in the city of Heliopoli survives to this day … almost.

There is evidence of plazas and parks in which trees and shrubs figure prominently. There were boulevards of trees planned for the city. Trees are highly evident in The Poster. Greenery was to be an important component to life in the city, but it couldn’t survive being buried in the desert sand. There is, however, the matter of the recently discovered Botanical Geodesic.

According to Wikipedia, a geodesic dome is an almost spherical shell structure based on a network of great circles (geodesics) lying on the surface of a sphere. The geodesics intersect to form triangular elements that distribute stress across the entire structure. When completed to form a full sphere, it is known as a geodesic sphere.

Though not the original inventor, R. Buckminster Fuller investigated the concept of this design and named the dome “geodesic” from field experiments with Kenneth Snelson and others at Black Mountain College in the late 1940s. He popularized the idea and received a U.S. patent.

The geodesic dome appealed to Fuller because it was extremely strong for its weight and because a sphere encloses the greatest volume for the least surface area. Fuller had hopes that the geodesic dome would help address the postwar housing crisis.

The Botanical Geodesic of Heliopoli is a geodesic oasis. Plants and flowers have survived here, flourishing, protected in their sphere. There is something to be said for a strong, jewel-like structure, geometric and protective, transparent, a dissipater of stress.

Because Heliopoli was constructed in the 1970s, there is an inordinate amount of marigolds and spider plants within, but that’s OK.

As has been said one too many times, Heliopoli is a circular city. Its outer edge is bordered by the monorail system, and this creates, if not a physical barrier, then a mental one. You can stand beside a pylon of the monorail with the city at your back and look out over a vast, empty expanse of desert. Though the city is 10 miles in diameter, there is a limiting factor in such a boundary, since it ends so abruptly; it creates an impression of a bubble that must be burst.

The architects of Heliopoli took many psychological factors into consideration, including this one. They constructed a single road out of the city, perfectly straight, toward the west. It is nonfunctional, but only physically so. No cars or unipedes run on it; neither trucks nor rails mar its surface. There is no need. Stand by the pylon now as the sun sets, your hand above your eyes, and watch the road soar to the very horizon. The effect is exactly the same as if you are at the beach, standing where the waves lap your feet, gazing to where the sky meets the sea. It is just as sad, just as satisfying.

Instead of feeling that Heliopoli is limited, boundaried, there is that piercing road out, one way. Your soul is not circular; it is an arrow. And though the sun sets every evening near or on the road, there is one day of the year when it kisses its exact center and pours golden light into the city’s heart, turning the glass buildings copper, your companion’s eyes auburn.

When this happens, the feeling instilled in the inhabitants of the city can only be translated thus: “We are here; we are happy.”

Every great city requires a tower of time, and Heliopoli is no exception.

Whether it is a clock tower that ticks away the minutes or a bell tower that chimes the hour, any city must root itself in time as it does in space. Fine examples are Big Ben, the Belfry of Bruges, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Dom Tower of Utrecht, the Torre dos Clerigos, the Swan Bells of Perth, the Cathedral of St. Agustin in Texas, and the Chronotower of Heliopoli.

The Chronotower of Heliopoli is a soaring single spire, a paroxysm of minimalism. Take note of how sunlight sparks off of it; listen to the sound it makes as the wind blows past. The sound is not of bells, however, nor the ticking of gears. There are no bells in the Chronotower and no clocks. There are no mechanisms in the tower that record time whatsoever. The Chronotower indicates time by its very structure.

The architects of Heliopoli sought a dynamic marriage between the very old and the very new. Look up, look down, and you know the time — except at night.

The Chronotower of Heliopoli is a 555-foot-tall sundial. 

Well, of course.

Except, perhaps, for the Sun Disk Monolith, nothing is more iconographic of the city of Heliopoli than its monorail. Circling the outside of the circle-shaped city in a complete circuit as it does, it is estimated that the entire length of the monorail track is 80 miles, given that the diameter of the city is perhaps ten.

Try to imagine a more joyous occasion than to step into the air-conditioned hum of the monorail car and sink into its plush seating, beige on beige. With the shimmery desert on your right and the glistening city on your left, the thrill and swish of the speeding monorail train imparts such a feeling of self-possession one must catalog it as its own species of a unique kind of meditative state of bliss. The windows are crystal clear. The interior lighting is bright.

Where are your worries now? Whither your concerns and cares? Did you leave them behind at the last station? The employees of the monorail in their starched shirts and smart caps are adept at losing such baggage.

The monorail of the city of Heliopoli describes an enormous circle around the entire city, as we’ve mentioned. Didn’t you mean to get off at that station? Weren’t you to visit the museum, the Chronotower, the Lightworks, the Balloon Ferry, the Solarium? No? Then you are riding the monorail to ride it; the journey is its own journey, and why not? No need to stop. You will come round to your starting point again, eventually, and that’s all right; you’re probably different now, or not.

Regardless, you may continue to ride, and the circuit is never boring, because you will find something different this time around; it is, after all, a different time of day. You were never concerned with repetition as a child, were you? How many times did you see that movie? How many times did you listen to that song? Maybe your starting point is your end point, when all is said and done (and does not the monorail travel counterclockwise?).

It is highly recommended that you ride the monorail with your arms crossed, lest your heart burst with joy.

Welcome aboard.