In a post-apocalyptic Toronto, the city would be strangely, hideously dark beneath a moonless sky. Only the Tower would remain, its lights still tracing patterns up and down against a backdrop of stars returning to the city. Encoded messages become meaningless noise when there’s no one to decipher them. Only the lingering spirits of millions of people would power the lights, returning the Tower to its origin in communications, if only there was someone left to notice.