A typical weekday morning; the usual crush of rush hour traffic speeding down Ninth Avenue. Endless ants scurrying along to their cubicles for another day of monotony and meaningless paper shuffling. Next to the taxis barreling toward midtown and beyond, a man riding a bicycle. At first glance he looks like any other business drone: pin-striped suit; light blue button-down shirt; and a dark, nondescriptly patterned tie. He is riding a rusted and heavily scuffed black mountain bike alongside the Ninth Avenue traffic. So confident is he in his bike riding skills that both his hands are casually stuffed in his pant pockets as he pedals along, whistling some cheerful tune.