The wisdom in this becomes apparent as Machiko reaches Thirty-sixth Street. Before the renaissance stonework of the Pierpont Morgan Library rages a brawl attended by at least ten or twelve uniformed police. The strobing turret lights of their patrol wagons and sedans glance off the mirrored windows of high-rises and the chrome-faces of skyscrapers, illuminating the night like incandescent blue fire. Who they fight does not become clear until Machiko draws near.