Curatia

Curatia is a museum where the exhibits are the lives of the citizens. There is no clutter in this city. Every object—from the silver spoon in a café to the potted fern on a balcony—has been chosen after a rigorous tribunal of taste. The inhabitants do not possess things; they "curate" them. A man does not simply wear a coat; he displays it as part of his personal collection of winter textures.

The streets are lined with glass cases containing the ideal forms of ordinary objects: the Perfect Chair, the Ultimate Notebook, the Platenic Coffee Cup. The citizens walk slowly, admiring the curve of a handle or the kerning of a street sign. They believe that beauty is a moral imperative, and that an ugly object is a corruption of the soul.

But the silence in Curatia is heavy. In their pursuit of the perfect aesthetic, the citizens have polished away the friction of life. There is no dirt, no noise, no accidents. It is a city of beautiful surfaces, waiting for a traveler untidy enough to leave a fingerprint on the glass.