monotony and even provide some excitement. On the first we’re told we can tour two Garden City ‘model homes’ across the canyon from our training room. It’s a thirteen hundred foot zip across—the longest zip of the city, and one that I’ve avoided. The high-speed ride through darkness terrifies me and I do a poor job braking and come into the platform going a little fast, knocking Blake over. I apologize profusely for using him as a human domino, but part of me thinks he deserves it for his constant jabbing and inconsistent behavior towards me.
Once he shakes off my assault, my fake boyfriend grabs my hand and escorts me to the first house, which is roughly a hundred yards towards the ocean from the zip-line platform. We pass several others homes on the way. They all look disturbingly similar. Our guide informs us that, in fact, Garden City residences are constructed cookie cutter—the only difference being that Cleaved Couples get an extra bedroom to house their children, as well as an extra bathroom. They build each house of cement and into the top of one of the dozens of canyons in the city, with a porch overlooking the canyon area. The layouts are identical, with the rooms of each home circling a ‘sun room’ and ‘filtered garden.’ Residents can get their twenty minutes of sun in the sunroom without having to venture into the canyon. The garden room, while outdoors, has some special ultraviolet ray and heat filters to allow certain fruits and vegetables to grow. Each resident is required to maintain their garden and even the garden layout and crops are prescribed.
The interior rooms consist of a kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom and full bathroom, and powder room for guests—all stocked with ‘everything needed.’ Besides the bedroom variation of the houses we visit, the murals depicted on the walls differ, though each one is spectacular. I ask my tablet device who does the murals and am told that each resident has options: take a class at the school to learn how to do it yourself, or an artist will be provided free of charge. Of course it’s free of charge since you can’t pay them without money, there is no money on Thera, and workers don’t earn wages anyway. They mention that fifty percent of residents choose to do their own art so they can depict garden views to their likings. Not sure where on Thera anyone could get decent inspiration.
Blake and I flit through the houses, being complete goofballs as we pretend to be an old Cleaved couple, ordering kids around and doing chores. We invite trouble as we do a little ‘gardening’ at one of the homes. Blake ‘accidentally’ throws a tomato to me without warning—claiming poor visibility—and it splatters across my white shirt. I return the favor and then it’s all out fruit and veggie war, and I smell like ‘citrus surprise’ by the end. Our escort informs us that lunch is served and that if we are hungry we can suck the pulp off our clothing. I about pass out working out on an empty stomach after that, but seeing Blake so covered with fruit that he had to take off his shirt made it worthwhile.
After our behavior during our first field trip, they nearly cancel the next, but I sweet-talk our escort, promising that we’ll be on our very best behavior. Our escort takes us by private train, only accessible by key card, to an unlabeled destination. We exit our train cars, and the man uses his access card again to enter an extremely long, but well lit tunnel with doors on either side, each located at least fifty to a hundred feet apart. We travel the great length by moving sidewalk, and after having counted five doors on each side we dismount the sidewalk, and our escort punches a long code into a keypad to grant us access. As the door opens, both Blake and I say, “Wow” simultaneously.
A perfect scale model of Garden City lays before us—residences, canyons, plants, headquarters and all. Despite being completely indoors, even
Once he shakes off my assault, my fake boyfriend grabs my hand and escorts me to the first house, which is roughly a hundred yards towards the ocean from the zip-line platform. We pass several others homes on the way. They all look disturbingly similar. Our guide informs us that, in fact, Garden City residences are constructed cookie cutter—the only difference being that Cleaved Couples get an extra bedroom to house their children, as well as an extra bathroom. They build each house of cement and into the top of one of the dozens of canyons in the city, with a porch overlooking the canyon area. The layouts are identical, with the rooms of each home circling a ‘sun room’ and ‘filtered garden.’ Residents can get their twenty minutes of sun in the sunroom without having to venture into the canyon. The garden room, while outdoors, has some special ultraviolet ray and heat filters to allow certain fruits and vegetables to grow. Each resident is required to maintain their garden and even the garden layout and crops are prescribed.
The interior rooms consist of a kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom and full bathroom, and powder room for guests—all stocked with ‘everything needed.’ Besides the bedroom variation of the houses we visit, the murals depicted on the walls differ, though each one is spectacular. I ask my tablet device who does the murals and am told that each resident has options: take a class at the school to learn how to do it yourself, or an artist will be provided free of charge. Of course it’s free of charge since you can’t pay them without money, there is no money on Thera, and workers don’t earn wages anyway. They mention that fifty percent of residents choose to do their own art so they can depict garden views to their likings. Not sure where on Thera anyone could get decent inspiration.
Blake and I flit through the houses, being complete goofballs as we pretend to be an old Cleaved couple, ordering kids around and doing chores. We invite trouble as we do a little ‘gardening’ at one of the homes. Blake ‘accidentally’ throws a tomato to me without warning—claiming poor visibility—and it splatters across my white shirt. I return the favor and then it’s all out fruit and veggie war, and I smell like ‘citrus surprise’ by the end. Our escort informs us that lunch is served and that if we are hungry we can suck the pulp off our clothing. I about pass out working out on an empty stomach after that, but seeing Blake so covered with fruit that he had to take off his shirt made it worthwhile.
After our behavior during our first field trip, they nearly cancel the next, but I sweet-talk our escort, promising that we’ll be on our very best behavior. Our escort takes us by private train, only accessible by key card, to an unlabeled destination. We exit our train cars, and the man uses his access card again to enter an extremely long, but well lit tunnel with doors on either side, each located at least fifty to a hundred feet apart. We travel the great length by moving sidewalk, and after having counted five doors on each side we dismount the sidewalk, and our escort punches a long code into a keypad to grant us access. As the door opens, both Blake and I say, “Wow” simultaneously.
A perfect scale model of Garden City lays before us—residences, canyons, plants, headquarters and all. Despite being completely indoors, even
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