Brasilia

The plane taking me to Brazil got abducted by aliens, was transported through a quasar at warp speed, and vomited back to a remote southern part of Earth which the aliens had discovered in the 50s. I remembered nothing of the inter-galactical journey, but suddenly woke up in a confused state to find myself in Brasilia.

The landscape was completely flat, completely arid, and completely quiet. In fact it was so dry that the grass had a scorched look, and trees gave off a steam of overheat. Some patches of trees were, as a matter of fact, on fire, shooting up billows of thin charcoal smoke. Contrasting against an otherwise spotless blue sky.

"Those trees are on fire," I told my host, because he didn't seem to have noticed.

"Oh. Yes, that happens a lot," he said, and continued to drive.

In an almost defying way, the landscape in general felt green. With lots of colorful flowers. A smooth dark blue lake on the horizon. A stark summer feel.

But even stranger still were the futuristic alien structures dotting the land: a huge white dome-shaped museum, cubic buildings with gravity-defying structures jutting out of its side, a lone white tower, a church that looked like giant intertwined fingers, a twin parliament building that looked like a ball cut in half, one upturned, one face-down. Curving walls, cool pools, defined edges, elegant whiteness. The entire city was a marvelous architectural Bauhaus museum.

Of course I later discovered that the “alien” responsible for this is Oscar Niemeyer, the legendary Brazilian architect who designed the entire capital city of Brasilia.

“Is he still alive? I’d like to meet him. If only to shake his hand.”

“Well it will be a rather shaky handshake because he is almost a hundred.”

“Amazing.”

“He’s completely mad. What normal person would build a city in a desert?”

“Maybe he finds it cozy.

“He lives in Rio. By the Copacabana beach.”