A Skein of Words

Then the coast of America came into view, the Rocky Mountains marching down its eastern shore, and a string of cities lining the sea’s edge like a pearl necklace. To the north, on his right, was the United States; to the south, on his left, was the Free States. Far to the north he could make out New York and Boston, huddled on Hudson Sound. South of that was Philadelphia on the Oregon River, rain clouds gathered above it. Directly ahead of him, mighty James Bay with the shipyards of Williamsburg (still operating, despite its recent pounding by the firebombs of the United States); and off to his left, to the south, New Orleans and St. Augustine, and beyond them, the reds and yellows of the deserts of Louisiana and Florida. Then he was over the brown Rockies, dotted with the scattered farms and mines of the Americans, but mostly wild, dry, and empty. — Mere America