what's *really* going on...

In Johannesburg, you spend a lot of time driving, often along freeways bordered by massive corporation headquarters. Most of them are dull-ish, sprawling office blocks, but occasionally I see buildings that are like gifts because they provide me with material for an elaborate game of matching the sinister science-fiction plot with the appearance of the outside. What you are about to read are therefore revelations of what is really going on behind the evocative exteriors of three gargantuan features of the Gauteng landscape.

The first building that gave me these exclusive glimpses of truth was the Johnson and Johnson building. It is large, square and cream-white bordered with what looks like crochet detail: pretty patterns along the top of the building wall. It has been made to look the perfect homemaker's prize tablecloth. I am not talking about the modern homemaker, but the homemaker with perfect hair and a vacant expression who only wears cutely-patterned puffy dresses. I am talking about the dreaded army of Stepford Wives. I saw the Nicole Kidman version a few years ago, and thoroughly enjoyed its over-the-top satire (Goose and Maria will remember). I saw the original last year and was chilled to the bone. The men in the original town of Stepford kill their wives and remove their eyes in order to install them in robots who will become sex-bunny maids. My theory is that the shimmering corporate building is the perfectly designed enclosure for the Barbie-doll look-alike fifties throw back robots. Think about that the next time you drive past...

The place where the really-mean-robots are made is without doubt the Gauteng Gambling Association building. It is Big and Black and Shiny. It glistens, like the black reflective eyes of a crocodile. They make the killer robots there, the ones who are built like Ronald Niedermann (from Stieg Larsson's revolutionary thriller series). Niedermann is built like a viking, has superhuman strength, no conscience and a genetic abnormality that means he cannot feel pain. When I look at the Gambling building, I don't associate the glittering exterior with glamour and Charlize Theron advertising Sun International. I think of Carnival City and all the children I saw sleeping in the corridors at 10pm and the domestic workers; lonely, shrivelled old women; and overweight people with neglected appearances with their eyes glazed over staring at the slot machines until all hours of the morning. I know many of these people fall through the cracks and lose all their livelihood. When they lose big time, Ronald Niedermann robots manufactured in the Gambling Association building is coming to make them - and their families - pay.

The final building is a bit of pseudo-alien fun. As you drive off the Malibongwe offramp at night, colossal splendidly lit Greco-Roman columns greet you. They are the front of the FNB building, and its shape and sturdily grandiose proportions make me think maybe there is some truth in alien-Atlantis-Egyptian pyramid type theories after all. The theories go that aliens landed on Earth and gave us all the best ancient technologies, including the pyramids and possibly other ancient civilisations as well. When I saw the FNB buildings, I realised that the aliens are back: this time in South Africa. They didn't arrive and end up living in a refugee squatter camp (like District 9), they landed in a space craft that was styled after their earliest and grandest earth achievements. The aliens are once again among us. But don't worry, they've only come to improve the South African banking system. Maybe they will lower our bank charges...