Something already knows where tonight is. After sunset, before anyone has heard of the room, a set of tracks crosses a wet service road toward it. A shadow moves along a rail cut. A coyote is already waiting at a warehouse door nobody has told you about. In Terminal City these are the Nocturnals: the night scouts.
They are not a council and not a workforce. They are whatever reliably leads you to the right unmarked door, and they are gone before you can thank them. People follow without meaning to, one coincidence at a time, and end up somewhere the wider city has not noticed yet.
They take the handoff from the Sunset and lead toward the Sixth Hour. The Green Static, which confuses every scheduled system in the city, does not confuse them at all.
The Morning Meeting
Morning Mist
The Wire Choir
The Clock
The Probes
The Old Line
The Repair People
Crows
Sunset
The Sixth Hour
The Nocturnals
Terminal Fog
Eternal Night
The Outer Circuit
Green Static
The Endless Stair
The Beyond
Far Shore
The 3:17 Freight
