Volumes have filled shelves. Water and the Mexica. Pilings into lake beds. Mud daubed into fertile plinths. A capital without rivals and yet deathly allergic to gunpowder, iron, and equestrian assaults. What water is left is pooled on the edges or drained away into some unseen slurry from which grass is greened and IKEA houseplants grow to their full capacity. Not unlike the Romans, engineers supply refreshment to the countless millions by drawing from distant mountain reservoirs. (Not at ease with the blur - technology at times disappoints.)
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