Observe Mr. Donald Huff, a part-time bulk paper broker of middle age huddled in a darkened apartment

with seven roommates.

Though the city is shut off the power

to the converted office building they call home,

you can catch a glimpse of his face when briefly illuminated by a

strobe like the city is positioned outside to irritate him. When he and his

compatriots leave their abode for groceries or fresh air, they will be

tailed and harassed by armed thugs, hired to menace.

By late January, under the pretense of a fire hazard, all will be evicted.

Mr. Huff will move into his SUV and sleep on the streets of a city that does not want him.

It does not want anyone wondering its alleys and smokestacks at night.

Most of all, it does not want anyone

to dare sleep within its gritty industrial dimensions.

By day, this ominous metropolis of money and secrets is a thriving hub of industrial output

A clop of smoke stacks and warehouses teeming with manufacturing and metalworking a

prosperous Berg pumping billions of dollars into the greater economy each year.

Every morning when night recedes, 44,000 low skilled workers troop in to toil in the 2,500 businesses situated within its 5 square miles,

44,000 laborers and factory workers, all clinging on assembly lines and loading trucks.

2,500 businesses spilling out widgets and plastic and metal equipment

into the great industrial maw of American capitalism.

But these factory peions, these modern

helots of Greece and Braun, are not encouraged to remain in the city after dark.

...