The next morning, they began. Not all at once. A tunnel here. A garden there. A bridge made of salvaged light-tubes that flickered but held.
Because sometimes, the most permanent things start as neon plans.
For seven nights, he worked. He mapped abandoned subway tunnels as cultural arteries. He rewired old neon factories into vertical farms, their pink and green lights repurposed for photosynthesis. He drew bridges from the smog-choked lower levels to the purified towers, not of glass, but of recycled biopolymer. He called it "Project Aurora."