I was the new mayor of a town called Takakalanga, population 1.2 million.  A neighboring city (started with a C) wanted to buy it.  The people seemed receptive, so I was writing up the transaction form.  I had to ask my father, as I had no idea what I was doing.  The other city hesitantly agreed upon 2 million instead of his proposed dollar per person, when I told him he would get revenue from taxes in the years to come, so it was only fair to pay more.  The people who bought our city weren't normal. I sat in the driver's seat of a car, to which they had tied a rope and were pulling.  First on a hilly dry grass setting, and then water.  I noted it was like a magic motion ride, the way the jumps were unrealistic, staying at such a high elevation between gaps of plateaus protruding out of the water that we were driving across.  About two of those, and we arrived.  A small place indeed.  A couple of floating log-ends (rather large, could probably fit 25 people on one).  It was like a grand set of wharf pillars, the wood very textured and floating at different heights.  Some bunched together, others would have to be climbed to get to some higher up.  There were some suspended overhead as shelter.  The food supply consisted of a small box of plants, one small plant for each type of food.  It was smaller than a shoebox, but somehow supplied all their food.