Here, where his eyes fell, had once been green fields and running brooks, and how had the kind earth been despoiled and disfigured! The pioneers had begun the work, but in their old age their orators had said for them that they had toiled and risked and sacrificed that their posterity might live in peace and wisdom, enjoying the fruits of the earth.

Well, their posterity was here--and there was only turmoil.

Where was the promised land?
It had been promised by the soldiers of all the wars; it had been promised to this generation by the pioneers; but here was the very posterity to whom it had been promised, toiling and risking and sacrificing in turn--for what?
The harsh roar of the city came in through the open window, continuously beating upon Bibbs's ear until he began to distinguish a pulsation in it--a broken and irregular cadence.

It seemed to him that it was like a titanic voice, discordant, hoarse, rustily metallic--the voice of the god, Bigness.

And the voice summoned Bibbs as it summoned all its servants.
"Come and work!" it seemed to yell.