The limo takes the Franklin Bridge over the Delaware into Camden, Inc., where 
the night burns in garish neon and simmers with flashing strobes. The procession 
of dazzling megawatt facades begins. The names of the casinos and nightclubs 
rise up five, ten, fifteen, twenty stories: Polichrome Palace, Ritz Royale, 
Dragon’s Loft, Rage of Mages, Four Aces, Glistening Underling, Silk Refuge. The streets widen into boulevards. Laserdis adverts arch out over the
streets. Econocars vanish among a tide of gleaming limousines and posh executive 
sedans. Crowds in glittering Prestigewear and the mirrored fashions of 
NeoMonochrome flow ceaselessly along the sidewalks and through fantastic 
entrance ways of glaring, flickering light.