Above the sleeping city, a goddess rode her lion through glowing golden pathways in the dark sky.
Her eight mechanical arms extended with soft clicks. Below, she saw a great crack splitting the sky-bridge in two.
She landed. Her arms reached down — clank, zap — one arm pushed, another threaded a glowing cable.
A third arm tried to screw a panel but the screw just kept spinning and spinning and spinning.
The goddess gently tapped the screw with two fingers. Click. It held.
The whole section lit up gold. The goddess nodded and moved to the next broken stretch.
On the last bridge, all eight arms moved together — twist, click, hum — repairing, repairing, repairing.
Suddenly the last panel blazed with light — the whole city sparkled like a map of stars.
On a nearby balcony, children dropped their toy rockets and pointed at the golden sky.
The goddess smiled and petted her lion's thick mane. The golden bridges stretched across every tower.
Far below, people stepped outside and looked up, waving at the shining sky.
The goddess nodded once, patted her lion, and rode onward into the glowing night.