Each night, well after most adults are in bed, I watch the city fall asleep. City corners that thrive up until three am, grow suddenly vacant as if the last of the humans evaporated when that magical hour sounded on the old grandfather clock of time. I try to watch my cameras around downtown to bear witness to the phenomenon but usually I’m too busy with radio traffic from my officers.
I’ll glance up and the area is full of college students, glance back up a half hour later and the only living thing in the entire vicinity are a few birds that flutter past the camera’s lens. Various remnants of humans remain – many paper cups dance across the Pentecrest in a choreographic mix of hip hop and ballet. The whole transformation is exceptional – I feel privileged to see it through my little web of cameras.
But wait, that’s not all. A mere 2 1/2 hours later – as the darkness takes on lighter shades of pale, I watch the city yawn and stretch itself back to life. The working class make their way to their various catacombs in the buildings that stand sentry over the Pentecrest; delivery trucks arrive laden with packages; and City buses magically arrive at their designated areas.
Just as magically, the tired, lonely feeling that befell me as the City slipped into slumber, whisks away as the new day dawns.
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