Deep in the bowels of the Western Union building, the city had offices on lease. The Department of Buildings among them. Stacks of plans, the hum of fluorescents, men in rolled-up sleeves arguing over permits. By day's end, the desks were empty, the last form stamped. Down the street at Hop Kee, the real night shift began—city workers hunched over plates of lo mein, the city still ticking. June, 1988
