At first light, the flesh and steel lifeblood of the city began flowing across bridges and through tunnels, coursing through arteries and streets, spreading throughout the commercial center. The sky was dull red, light filtered through the breath of a thousand factories and ten million cars. Lights winked out, shutters clanked upwards, the sidewalks and cafes filled with people rushing in every direction. By the end of the first hour of daylight, the pulse of the city was steady, the ebb and flow of traffic regular and constant. As people flooded in to businesses, offices, and shops, the brain of the city awakened. Data flew by wire and radio waves in a dense neural mesh across the city, directing its organs and limbs, assessing its environment and adapting to momentary changes. Connections with other entities around the globe were made, following the sun. The city consumed, the city excreted, the city grew. Then, as light ebbed, the arterial flow reversed, flesh and steel flowed outward, the clamor of communication across the neural net quieted, all but a low level of activity went dormant, and the city slept.