We travel through Urbana silently, gliding by guided electric U-car through the landscape. Vast expanses of gardens and houses pass us as we move within a canopy of trees. On the horizon, a long silhouette rises from the terrain like the giant curved skeleton of a dinosaur. Soon we see towers and rows of great columns: a spine rising to form a skyline. The terrain of trees and fields flows along this urban edge like waves brushing the shore. When we reach the linear center, a great gateway welcomes us, a portal that receives hundreds of arriving vehicles. On a platform along the New Cardo, we leave the car, instantly on foot. Latched onto a moving beltway, our vehicle disappears.
Another day, we travel through Urbana by rapid train. Looking out across acres of green, the linear center's spinelike skyline echoes the silhouettes of neighboring centers on the horizon. At a transportation node, like a great urban threshold, we enter the glass-roofed station and transfer to a Conveyor, moving easily into the New Cardo unencumbered by vehicles. We step on and off the Conveyor many times: to window-shop, chat with friends, stroll through the central park. The urban boulevards, lined by shops and criss-crossed by little alleys, open broad vistas to us as we pass. As the cabs of the Conveyor move in opposite directions, here and there