There are only two ways to reach this city: by rail or by road. An unending stream of cars circle the city, pausing only for red and - sometimes - to dip into the earth.
Beneath the city lies a graveyard, carefully boxed up and charged by the hour, hidden from the nervous cars’ two dull eyes. Trams pass by at speed, a single blank eye watching as the city shoots by.
This is the city that never sleeps - a gridlocked clock constantly tells the pristine cobblestones that the seconds are passing.
Buildings climb high all around, shrouded in scaffolding, ready to take the next generation of citizens. But they will never come. The city is dead, and belongs only to the cars and the trams.