An open hydrant belches water into rippling rivers down the street. Kids at play? No, men at work. A wrench on top suggests a plan. It's not the only one. All over New York City, something is being built up, torn down, drilled, filled, hammered, repaired and repainted. Flocks of neon safety vests build orange mesh nests marked by yellow caution tape. Drills whine like angry insects. Big clouds of dust explode like pollen. Worker ants move earth. At the end of my street, I see a four-ton magic trick: a massive truck floating in the air because all its wheels are jacked to stabilize a rooftop crane. Around the corner, six sunken men work inside an opened sidewalk. At a nearby bus stop, a digital sign bares computer circuitry to the world. The electrician tinkers and walks back to his truck, his work-in-progress left untended. Hidden infrastructure hums all around us. Here's a chance to peer inside. Who knew that time and use and winter cold could break us down so much? Luckily, we're on the mend.