The city’s architects and designers came up with an idea one day, and saw it realized the next. Materials mined from nearby asteroids and uninhabitable planets were brought back, refined, and carried by printing drones. A single drone could build a home for five in an before you finished breakfast. The printed material connected to a network of foundations that joined every building. The wider the city became, the stronger the foundation. Every new addition helped the whole. Every building an above ground hub of an unseen web.
The enormous towers that sat at the city’s center had been built in days. They seemed they grew new sections every few months. A wealthy business person might want an apartment-home three hundred floors up and pay to have it printed. Two days later he’d be living there. And just as easy as new construction went up, it could come down. The printer drones dismantled even faster than they could build. What went up in days, could come down in hours.
The city’s buildings, like the people that inhabited them, changed faster than any other point in the history of humanity. It was all so new. No one had been in the city more than a year, and yet more than three thousand years past a city of such size and population would have taken multiple lifetimes to build. Patterns become tighter, faster, more efficient. What works continues to work, is refined, and works even better.
Philosophers had speculated that with the ability to change the entire look of a city in such short order people would never be satisfied. That they would continually seek new forms. And indeed some of that took place. There were the continually disappointed, but they did not represent the majority. By and large, people wanted their homes, places of work, play, and restaurants—their city—to serve a purpose. Those philosophers could never have anticipated one person would shape that primary desire. A desire to be better today than yesterday, better tomorrow than today. But one person, like one choice, change shape so much.