Uniform in all the fortress was the architecture, it being a strange mix
between elegant and gentle arches and curves and brute practicality, for
while the ceilings were high and open, and the walls wide, they were
rendered homely by their plain surfaces and the absence of small
triflings, conditions that were necessitated because of its identity: an
impregnable fortress containing a highly organized and self-sufficient
governmental society, each citizen having a particular duty for the
common good, and each kept from an unfarcical personal identity by the
means of a statist society.

From the lower, governmental offices we went up a flight of stairs that
wrapped round and round a tower-like tunnel, and soon reached the
departmental portal. Once there, we took the northern tunnel, which
opened into a large hall that stretched on almost endlessly, with hordes
of tunnels branching off to the various agencies. There were a great
many Canitaurs working busily, preparing for the attack on Nunami and
its possible results, which, though long prepared for, had a few last
moment components to be finished. Walking down the central through way,
we went to the far end of the hall, which, as it was a walk of at least
two miles, afforded plenty of time for observation and reflecting, two
things that I am naturally given to. Accordingly, I turned to my
companion, Bernibus, and offered in an almost philosophical way:

"Your society seems to be flourishing, though I am not surprised, as you
all seem vigorously industrious. I am amazed, however, that no one
shirks from their job, no matter how menial or trifling."

"We all have our assigned jobs, and all know that one slovenly job may
cost us dearly," he said.