wasn’t much of an effort to disguise it. The same man came into every coffee shop and bookstore with me for an entire afternoon. When I sat down, he sat down. When I browsed, he browsed. It looked like they were pushing, trying to see what I would do. Either that or they share the same training manual with our special section.”

“Skip it. You can describe the operational stuff for the files later.” He sat up, alert again. The anchor was in place. “What was there to see? And don’t try to tell me all cities are the same. They aren’t.”

“There are buildings—lots of brick buildings, most of them old, though they think old is a hundred years. Not all of them are that tall.”

“Not tall? What are you talking about?”

“Some are pretty tall, of course, but not all of them.” Building height didn’t interest me that much. I didn’t mind craning my neck to look up at a tall tree. After all, it had grown to that place in the sky; the topmost leaves felt breezes the taproot could only imagine. But buildings didn’t know one floor from another, and didn’t care. “You know what was fascinating?”

Pak groaned. “You’re going to talk about trees, aren’t you?”

“There were signs painted on some buildings. These aren’t banners or rooftop signboards, but slogans actually painted on the buildings. And I don’t mean political slogans. I started taking notes about them while I was walking around. They were odd announcements, advertisements for goods, mostly. I saw one for ‘Undies.’ No one in the mission had any idea what it meant. I did an informal study to see whether those signs revealed anything, you know, sociopolitical insights into economic superstructure. That sort of thing.”

“I’m hearing, but I’m not believing. What do you know about economic superstructure?”

“It’s a small island.”

“Three and a half kilometers wide. Not even as wide as the demilitarized zone.”

“You were following me around?”

“When I have an inspector far away, I like to keep him close. I just needed a mental map of where you were, so I did some checking. I trust that was alright.”

“How long is it?”

“From the Battery or from South Ferry?”

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so sleepy. “You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been here in my chair, Inspector, waiting for you to return and regale me. And you were talking about the economic superstructure. Proceed.”

“I was about to say, we have a North-South problem, right?”

Pak wagged a finger. “It’s not a problem.”

“You want to comment on everything, or do you want to listen?”

“Speak, o traveler.” Pak settled back again and closed his eyes.

“They divide East-West, like Germany did.” I waited, but Pak didn’t stir. “I couldn’t see any difference between the eastern part of the island and the western part, but they can. So I did a little survey and discovered it shows up in subtle ways.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You know what I discovered? On cross streets—those are the streets that are numbered—most of the building signs are visible only for those coming from the west, walking easterly. On the avenues—the bigger streets that run north and south—there is a slight preference for those coming from uptown, moving south, but that may be a statistical anomaly, except on Park Avenue, which is, from all I could tell, a bastion of the rich. So ask yourself, who benefits? Who is supposed to be looking at these signs, and who is being disadvantaged?”

“Okay, I’m asking myself.” He opened one eye. “And you are going to tell me.”

“The conclusion is inescapable. It is wrapped in a subtle sociological and class message, a subtextual fly in what the Americans like to think of as their fabulous melting pot. Simply stated: If you come from the poorer section, the east side, and cross over to the richer west, you are on your own. There are few signs put up for your benefit. But do you think those on the east side simply accept this?”

“I have a feeling they don’t.”

“That’s right, they don’t. In protest, most of the signs on the east side are meant for east side eyes. There are plenty of signs on the backs of buildings not so far from our UN mission, along the east side of Lexington Avenue. Who are those signs for? Pilots on East River tugboats? Far-sighted people on the Queens waterfront? I don’t think so.”

“Queens?”

“Look on your map.”

“That’s it? The sum total of your report?”

I rubbed my hands together. “I’m only getting started. Maybe I should take up political