The light sets heavy over the Metropolis, that silver-lined sunless sky thick with smoke. Tonight, like each that came before it, is nothing short of a number in clockwork calendars for the machines that set the stage.

For Baden's sort? It'll be nothing less than airtime.

A chance to engage, to provoke, to promote.

And the night was cool with the first snowflakes, a flash of a grin at the Radio's face to hear the streets an unmoulded voice or two louder.