On alert or no, industry couldn't be shut down forever, and once several days had passed without incident, they had to allow the workers to return to their jobs at the workhouses and mills. Ponies vomited forth from the doors of the many carriages of the train. It was a simple utilitarian affair, still shiny with a coat of black paint over its hull, yet for all its rugged practicality, the pony touch was ever present, such as the windows frosted with designs cut out of them in clear glass. The fearsome façade of the wrought, unfeeling iron of the great metal beast at its head was softened with hearts, stars, suns, and moons indented across its surface. The interior was comfortable if pragmatic, and its warmth kept the winter's chill at bay. The streetlights carved a river of light along the darkness just east of the Manehatten Bridge, going down the golden mile where the city came to a stop and nightlife began.