On the checkerboard of the city the wizard, urban, ponders.

He is GREEN. He sits next to RED and OLIVE.

He owns a small basic industry, two high-rise rental apartments, and a shopping center.

Each is a square mile.

On each he earns twenty percent per annum not counting taxes.

He owns the mayor and two councilmen. They are against taxes.

He is buying vacant lots in the suburbs to house future employees.

He plans to double the gross of the industry and set up a mile-square warehouse.

He watches months pass on the wall. He is thirsty.

The computer is on the fritz. LAVENDER is borrowing.

What is SALMON plotting? And PURPLE? He shuffles his papers.

His is a city of papers and paper plots. Nobody lives there.

The economy thrives and languishes. Acts of God are ten percent,

Riots ten percent, birth and death balanced, not a factor,

Nor love. It is December.

The bell rings.

End of the game.