Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

The city had grown, implacably, spreading its concrete and alloy fingers wider every day over the dark and feral country. Nothing could stop it. Mountains were stamped flat. Rivers were dammed off or drained or put elsewhere. The marshes were filled. The animals shot from the trees and then the trees cut down. And the big gray machines moved forward, gobbling up the jungle with their iron teeth, chewing it clean of its life and all its living things.Until it was no more. Leveled, smoothed as a highway is smoothed, its centuries choked beneath millions and millions of tons of hardened stone. The birth of a city... It had become the death of a world.

Superorganism. A biologist coined that word for our great African ant colonies, claiming that consciousness and intelligence resided not in the individual ant but in the collective ant mind. The trail of red taillights stretching to the horizon as day broke around us made me think of that term. Order and purpose must reside somewhere other than within each vehicle. That morning I heard the hum, the respiration of the superorganism. It's a sound the new immigrant hears but not for long. By the time I learned to say "6-inch Number 7 on rye with Swiss hold the lettuce," the sound, too, was gone. It became part of the what the mind would label silence. You were subsumed into the superorganism.

Absolutely. No more pretending!

How did pretty little Anna go from Westchester suburb brat to New York hooker? Now that__ a story.

Now give me some advice about how to take full advantage of this city. I__ always looking to improve my odds.___ust what I__ expect from a horny actuary._____ serious.__arlos reflected for a moment on the problem at hand. He actually had never needed or tried to take full advantage of the city in order to meet women, but he thought about all of his friends who regularly did. His face lit up as he thought of some helpful advice: __et into the arts.___he arts?___eah.___ut I__ not artistic.___t doesn__ matter. Many women are into the arts. Theater. Painting. Dance. They love that stuff.___ou want me to get into dance? Earthquakes have better rhythm than me_And can you really picture me in those tights?___ake an art history class. Learn photography. Get involved in a play or an independent film production. Get artsy, Sammy. I__ telling you, the senoritas dig that stuff.___eally?___eah. You need to sign up for a bunch of artistic activities. But you can__ let on that it__ all just a pretext to meet women. You have to take a real interest in the subject or they__l quickly sniff out your game.___ don__ know_It__ all so foreign to me_I don__ know the first thing about being artistic.___eeb, this is the time to expand your horizons. And you__e in the perfect city to do it. New York is all about reinventing yourself. Get out of your comfort zones. Become more of a Renaissance man. That__ much more interesting to women.