If you look passed the hyperbole of the landmass and really described the city, you would notice the oddity. The city was an odd like. This city, known as Mulleno, was the home town to the peculiar. The people were deranged ranging from the constant physiological disorders such as schizophrenics, multiple personality disorders, disillusioned citizens. When the citizens didn't have these disorders, they were even crazier than the former. Not only did the choose to live in Mulleno, they demanded it. Everyone needed an outlet. These citizens couldn't deal with the populace. The blatant sense of normalcy that reigns through the healthy souls, the conformity that twinkles in the eye of the transparent, trying to be like someone who is also trying to mimic a copier. But these strange citizens, the ones that moved to Mulleno, didn't do it on a whim but an instinct. Their minds, somehow linked together, told them to come here. To share the crazy, their irregularities that resided in either their personality or in their minds. No pretension, no social hierarchy, just strangeness that not only illuminates the streets at night but also the curiosity of the majority.
Even know the size of the city was rather large, there were not many ways to enter. Either by literally foot which was the means of many of the inhabitants. People with such mental illnesses are not allowed to drive for the liability of the highly functional. But the only other way, the path of tourists, was to know the secret. On interstate 80, past the plainness of Des Moines, right between Illinois and Iowa where the giant steel windmills begin to revolve in their masses and the clouds never seem to break, their is a highway sign that is supposed to read "Plemoan" but is matted up, taped away, hidden with orange tape wrapped around the green frame of the sign telling the innocent travelers to head farther down the road for the detour. No one ever gets off at the exit but if you dare take that desolate road, you will find the odd city I am mentioning. The police monitor the traffic anyways, so don't even try to find mystery in such a maze because the only way you will be able to enter is through invitation.
In Mulleno, no normal business practices were found. No corporate consolidation existed and hardly any commerce actually took flight. Some of the outsiders, the ones with no known illness (everyone had an illness, no matter how hard one refrained to believe they did not), the ones not cordially invited, tried to open up gimmicky shops, celebrating the odd and parading the unusual but usually the trends would last. These shops were a way for the strange to seek out the normal. If one entered such a place and considered the frivolous nature of such a place, they were finished in the community. No one led such excommunication but the citizens just knew since they lived with such disease that plagued their perceptions, they could easily sniff one out. Sometimes they would even have fun with such beings, the ones that selfishly lived in such a place where the odd dwell and our praised. They would trap them, corner them and try to infect the normals with their garble, their mumbles and thoughts on the falling bugs from the sky, the eroding oxygen that doomed our lungs, and the watchers in the clouds journaling our every day existence. In turn, through their remedial behavior, if such torture worked, the normals would eventually turn into the strange. Be infected, and slowly develop into a crazy, unique human being.
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