I went to the City last month to find an apartment (I dreaded the assignment) for my wife and me, as both of us will begin working new jobs there shortly. The first thing that I wanted to do upon my arrival was to look up an old friend who owned a bookstore in the northeast section of the City. His address I was told was A49 18-S14. Not having been to the city since I was a teenager, almost thirty-years ago, I was a bit disoriented. Upon my arrival at the airport, I had merely told the cabby what hotel I would be staying at and was delivered in short order with no comment. This surprised me, because I remembered the city cabbies as being a specifically talkative breed -- perhaps, he was mute. In any event, as we proceeded to the Northeast section of the city I formed my own impressions. The city that I remembered dotted with skyscrapers had become dense with them; it seemed that there was little else but streets, sidewalks, and tall buildings; and, of course, people -- all sorts of people.

The prospect of going out on foot and making my way around filled me with excitement and a spirit of adventure. I decided that I would not ask directions to my destination, partly to avoid exposing myself as an outlander, and partly to answer the challenge that finding my own way posed. I started walking toward the East (toward the morning sun, still obscured by tall buildings). Every door on the street was designated by the letter "A" followed by a number, but halfway down the block the even numbers that had been escalating by two's reverted back to "2" and began the progression again, now with a different letter designation, "S." Engaged with this first "clue," I did not pause to note the street sign as I crossed the street straightaway. Now, the designations on the doorway reverted back to "A," with even numbers ascending. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder at the street sign on the corner. It read A38 09-A on both faces that I could see. I approached it again to gain a perspective on its other markings. Ninety degrees-clockwise, it read A38 09-C on both faces. I continued around to find A38 09-T; then, A38 09-S.

What sort of crazy system is this? To be inconspicuous, I walked away from the intersection before I scribbled what I had seen on a piece of paper. My head dancing with confusion, I wandered into what appeared to be a coffee shop and sat down at the counter. A neatly-dressed young man appeared and informed me that things were a bit hectic and that it would be at least 30 minutes before I could get to see a counselor. Meanwhile, he continued, if I chose to wait, I should feel free to help myself to the beverages and snacks that were at the end of the counter. Then, he presented me with a numbered token and disappeared through the doorway beyond "the refreshment" stand. What sort of place I had happened into concerned me only briefly as I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat back down to try to orient myself. Where am I?, I thought. Where have I been?

I reconstructed my observations on a napkin. Lighting a cigarette, I noticed the address of the hotel I was staying at, on the back of my matchbook: A37 09-A22. From that starting point I moved in a straight line to the intersection...it's a simple grid; it must have a center at (0,0); ASTC are quadrant destinations; and, the blocks, too, are divided into quadrants, for consistency. I'm in quadrant "A," on the 38th vertical block, 9th horizontal block. (This is what I generated):

Out the door I went in an easterly direction. The next intersection I came to verified my hypothesis: the sign read A39 10 -- I was as good as there. Along the way, I reflected on the simplicity of the system but also the constriction of movement in this place, where with nothing but block after regular block of tall buildings, there were no shortcuts or irregular paths that one could follow trying to get around. How does living here affect the way people think?; it's so regimented...

Eventually, I came to the bookstore and found my friend. We exchanged our satisfaction at meeting up again, and informed each other as to what we had been up to over the last 10 years. I had no idea of how extensively the City had grown and developed, I told him. I wondered if it would be difficult to adjust to living here, the environment seems to be so restrictive. "You'll get used to it, and I think that you'll discover certain advantages to living here," he responded. "Everything here is so orderly and rational -- it has to be so to deal with the great size and variety of the population. Obviously, space is a major constraint in this system. It was decided years ago, in anticipation of further growth, that expanding on the grid that was the nucleus of the city would be the most efficient and effective solution to maintain order. The environment helps regulate the way people think and behave; one tends not to think irrational thought or go off on tangents. People find it easier to get things done." "But doesn't it slow you down?" "Perhaps," he answered, "but, personally, I've found that hurrying and shortcuts get you into trouble more often than not. Proceeding about things in a methodical and orderly fashion achieves better results, and, in the long run, it's more efficient, time-wise." "It's certainly not the way I'm used to looking at things," I replied. At that point, we ended our conversation and resolved to get together shortly after my wife and I were settled in.

I took a different route back to the hotel, knowing that there was no danger of getting lost. In my room, later that day, I turned my attention to apartment-hunting. I made a map on graph paper (you can't buy a map, because no one needs one!) on which I located my wife's new office and my own. Ideally, the apartment we would like would be located the same distance from each of our jobs.

I drew a line between our two job sites. At the midpoint of this line would be the perfect place to live. I measured the distance: we would each have to travel four blocks to get to work. I identified the intersection and then checked the classifieds for a listing. Of course, there were none. Next I looked for listings that approximated that midpoint. Curiously, I discovered that there were actually five (5) points that were four blocks away for each of us. These points laid on a line that was perpendicular to the line that I had drawn.

It was a neat result, but all of the apartments that were located on this imaginary perpendicular line were outrageously expensive (wouldn't you know it!). So, I extended this perpendicular line. Very few of the listings came as close as I would have liked to this line; and, again, they were all too expensive.

Retreating ever further from my ideal, I then began to located apartments that were generally located to the right and to the left of the line connecting our two offices, this time with an eye more towards affordability than proximity to my second line. I located a dozen or so, and set about measuring the distances to the job sites. To my surprise, I found that there were many more points of equidistance than I had imagined. In fact, the second line I drew merely bisected two whole areas in which any point would be suitable. The task of finding an ideal apartment wasn't difficult at all, once I realized this. The ideal apartment solution would be:

Elated at my discoveries and with a great sense of accomplishment, I put in a long-distance call to my wife. I conveyed the information, where upon she burst my bubble: "You think just like a man -- you're being too narrow-minded. Consider this: rather than going to such extremes to find a fair and equitable solution, it might make more sense to find an apartment where the combined distance that we travel would be minimized; that is, it seems more reasonable to me that, even if one of us had to travel farther than the other, if our total travel were less it would be a better solution to the problem." With feigned cheerfulness and humility, I replied, "You're right; I hadn't thought of looking at it that way, at all. I'll work on it some more and get back to you."

Back to my map. Well, I already know that, in the ideal, there is no value less than eight (8) blocks for our combined travel, even if we were willing to pay an exorbitant rent. But now I notice that any point in a square central area will satisfy that requirement -- that's interesting. I start measuring points outside of that area, in all directions... A pattern emerges. Reluctantly I recognize that looking at it from this "combined" perspective might, indeed, provide a better solution to this problem of finding the right apartment.

It's too late to call her back (just as well). As I gaze out my window at the city below I don't want to think about apartments and maps any more ... but I can't help wonder if there are any other possibilities that I've overlooked.