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31st of December, 23:53 - when the city that never sleeps is also the city where nobody sleeps. With another year about to end and the next about to begin New York is filled with expectant joy. Another year I have no paw digits left to count since I've met her: Aurora... my best friend, trusted companion - and co-founder. Fourteen years almost to the day, back when we started high school together... we've gone through so much since then, good and bad alike.

Just like every year since I can remember Central Park has been the destination of many thousands of spectators gathering to watch the New Year's eve fireworks. Manhattan's green heart has been bustling with activity all evening with families and friends looking for a spot to watch the pyrotechnic show at midnight. If it was a year like any other I'd be there together with my family; but this year I'm not here to celebrate the new year - Aurora and me are here to help herald it.

We're specialists for light engineering; the technical term hardly lives up to what we actually achieve. Our speciality is the reason that brought us here: Landing the contract of a lifetime - truth be told, Aurora has been the one to convince the city's officials to engage us - to help arrange part of the New Year's celebrations.

There's much at stake: Our largest, most prestigious commission to date. If... no, I got to stay positive - when we deliver what we promised our client we can make it to the top. A very good reason to be nervous, but not the only one by far: I'd pity the one in charge of the technical part of our show - if it wasn't me, that is. I must have gone over my checklists a hundred times now. Of course, that only served to make me even jumpier than I've been to begin with! Me fidgeting around like a nervous wreck wouldn't help Aurora, and neither would it help our tech crew: Jim and Anjali. So I require something to calm my racing thoughts, somewhere to redirect the restlessness I feel before it even has a chance to become a panic attack.

So I take some time to reminiscence: My part of the preparations for our show has been months in the making; years if you count all the work we've put into clawing our way towards this chance of a lifetime. Even if I would go over my pre-flight checks a hundred times more I couldn't change anything. Much less within the scant few minutes that remain until the beginning of the New Year fireworks, that is for certain.

It's make or break from here on out... succeeding or failing now lies in Aurora's paws. And I'm not afraid to trust her with the fate of our company - and years worth of hard work: She is the most gifted artist I've ever met; her drawings are... they somehow seamlessly blend between reality and fantasy. When you let your gaze wander over her works the pictures come alive - I swear I can see grass and trees swaying in the wind, can see the furs in the drawings reach out for each other... hear them talking to each other. Sometimes I still catch myself swiveling my ears searching for the sounds of their voices, their laughter, their crying even after all the years I've known Aurora and her works.

Her vivid pictures are is also what brought the two of us together - it took me weeks to muster the courage to ask her if she'd like to work on a shared art project back in high school. I was so afraid that I had so little to offer compared to her own aptitude; I could tell she was sceptical when I first approached her, knowing me only by name and in passing by from two classes we attended together. She remained so until I could somehow convince her to accompany me to the computer lab to show her the idea I had painstakingly worked on in the hope of impressing her enough to agree joining forces with me. It was a simple animation project - what I had cobbled together felt so clumsy compared to her I hardly dared to look her in the eyes as I stammered the explanations I had rehearsed so often.

Nothing to show but a homespun clip of thirty seconds of someone observing the crowd in what I made look like a cafeteria to the best of my limited drawing abilities. Of course I hadn't realized how much personal experience had slipped into the narrative; not until her forefinger touched the front of my muzzle in a very successful attempt to shush me. I remember clearly how I froze completely, uncertain as to what she'd do next. I feared the worst when she pushed me aside...

That was until her face lit up in a genuine smile - I was just supposed to make room in front of the keyboard! I didn't know how to articulate myself in sign language back then, so she had to revert to typing. Aurora's world is a silent one: She was born deaf-mute, a rare genetic defect depriving her of the ability to communicate vocally.

"There's simpler ways to get someone's attention, cánido. Like... just saying 'hello', you know. You really prepared all this just to ask me if I'd like to join you for a project in art class?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"You're funny, Alejandro! You'll need to work on your drawing and social skills a bit, but this? I like the idea - a lot, in fact. So: I'm in!"

Our first bits of conversation, unforgettable for me - and we've stuck together since then. The art class project turned into a shared hobby: Our acts first became popular at family celebrations; then once word had gotten around we choreographed parts of school celebrations, community festivals, small open-air events - the art project grew alongside the two of us. Our shared hobby became a shared passion, and when it was time to decide on our careers both of us picked paths that would allow us to turn what started as an art class into a profession: Storytelling with moving pictures.

"How is what you do different from a movie?"

This question is routine for me - telling what we're actually doing works best by showing. Our methods have evolved over the years: What started with Aurora's stills put into motion by yours truly projected on screen or the sides of buildings - that's what movies do - has become a rather unique show. The narrative is no longer static, for one: I've set up a storyboard app for Aurora to rearrange an entire collection of short clips to her liking; she is astonishing at reading the mood of the audience and adjusting the flow of a performance on the fly.

Speaking of flying: It's not "just" Aurora's life-like art and the animated stories we turn her works into. Not any more - we have struggled hard to upgrade our tool set since our first shows together. A pair of laser projectors have replaced the LCD ones we started out with, and our canvas... well, it's no longer stationary. It has learned to fly: It's not a single big screen like in cinemas; it's composed of two hundred much smaller screens in total, each carried by a quadcopter. Art and storytelling are Aurora's speciality; drone swarms are mine.

"We're ready to go here, Alex!"

The sudden sound of Anjali's voice shakes me out of my reverie as my earpiece comes to life - she and Jim Tokage giving me their go from our launch site. Aurorasigns her OK to me - tail swishing, ears flicking. She doesn't need her paws to convey the message, her gaze only leaving the pair of laptops in front of her to catch my terse nod and signed ready to launch. In contrast to her I need to use my paws; as a feline she has a much greater repertoire of non-verbal expressiveness than I do as a canine; I need to resort to gestured sign language.

"OK, Anjali, Jim... let's get them airborne."

Two minutes left until the skies above us will light up - and we complement the sky-bound pyrotechnics with a story painted in light on a tiled canvas dancing with the imagination of the audience. My feline amiga has created a narrative around the City That Never Sleeps - four hundred years of our home city's history condensed into fifteen minutes concerted with the fireworks that will illuminate the skyline over the turn of the year.

"We're going live!"

With a touch of my index digit I tell the quadcopters to take flight; my status screen only shows three failing to comply. Jim, dutiful as ever, points out the culprits - taking care of 200 drones, each a pizza box-sized collection of electronics and mechanics that loves breaking down without a heads-up isn't an easy job to begin with.

"18, 76 and 173 are no-go. Problem?"

"The control algorithms will compensate. We're fine."

Actually I could tolerate up to ten drones failing without our flying canvas showing noticeable gaps, but it's better to err on the side of caution. A lot is riding on this event for us - a lot of hard work, banking everything on one big contract to jumpstart our business - a conclusion draws near. I've had trouble sleeping lately, anxiety and uncertainty chipping away at my ability to remain calm and focused to the point of breaking. Tapping paws, wagging tail, gnawing on pencils... I've tried to hide being a nervous wreck best I could to not upset the rest of the team, but I haven't always been successful. Then there's...

a soft touch on my shoulder. Her soft touch - reigning in my racing thoughts, quelling the doubts and fears nagging on my resolve. Some way she always knows when I need reassurance or encouragement.

Her other paw fluidly dances through a sequence of words: "Xolo, don't be so skittish; we'll be fine. You'll be fine. Let's give the city a show to remember!"

Xolo... her nickname for me; she even adopted a special gesture for it; Xoloitzcuintle is a snoutful - how could I be mad at her for shortening my pedigree. How could I be mad at her for anything? I couldn't.

I sign back to her: "¡Bien! The stage is yours, amiga!"

Then she does something I've longed for - dreamt of - for as long as I knew her: Her lips plant the softest of kisses on the bridge of my snout, right where the coal-black skin of my nose gives way to the first vestiges of fur.

"Thank you for this, Alex. For bringing us here, for giving me this."

Thirty seconds to midnight. Her small endearment - I have no idea if it was just a friendly gesture or if it was... more - sees my inner world burst into a colorful round dance of joy and giddiness ahead of the New Year fireworks. How in the name of all that is just and right did you not ask this amazing girl earlier if she wants to be more than just your colleague and co-founder, Xolo?

I am about to remedy this biggest of my mistakes - not that I have been envisioning, daydreaming and wishing for this moment not long after I met Aurora the first time. I'm quite good with algorithms and structured problems. But when it comes to muster the courage to confess my feelings to someone? To find the right words to tell them "te quiero demasiado"?

I'm a disaster - no, a train wreck. Nervous doesn't describe properly what I am then. Hysterical is more to the point. And even thinking of trying to confess my true feelings to her when it's just the two of us alone? No se pueden pedir peras al olmo!

So I've come up with a different plan: I will tell her for everyone to see - our families, our friends. And I will tell her not with words, but with pictures. Pictures projected onto a hovering canvas framed by the velvet colors of a clear New York winter night, into a sky lit up by radiant blossoms of color: I wish to let her see herself as I see her - like the breathtakingly beautiful namesake, the Aurora Borealis.

I didn't dare ask our client for permission to alter the course of our show's narrative exactly at midnight, least of all behind Aurora's back - but as I explained what I'd like to add to our performance without letting its director know I was heartened to find them in full support of my request. Figuratively and literally, all it now takes is me to go through with it...

" Ten. Nine. Eight..."

The assembled crowd starts chanting as the last seconds of the old year tick by. I check my status displays: The swarm is in position, having ascended to its pre-set operating height 200 feet above ground. The canvas is in position... the show can begin.

" Seven. Six. Five..."

The radio channel we share with the fireworks teams comes to life as they radio in their own go's: The first wave of aerial shells launches bound to detonate in sync with the turn of the year. Aurora is deeply submerged in her own world now, her attention solely focused on the story panel. Half a heartbeat before the firework's charges paint the dark rectangle above Central Park in a brilliant pattern of light and fire her paw taps the start button. Our laser projectors come to life, their modulated light finding and lighting up our flying compound of mini-screens - and the story of our native city is told anew.

Novel: The way you've chosen to tell this story - and how we put visuals on it. I've seen Aurora's storyboards, and I've let Jim take care of supervising the drone swarm during one of our trial runs to watch the narrative unfold myself... but there weren't about a hundred thousand spectators - and potentially millions more if you count TV and live streams. There is no audio track underlaying the narration; the pyrotechnics and the audience drown out any other source of sound. Not that Aurora would need sound to convey the what and how of her stories: The absence of voice and hearing has helped her imagination to picture the world as it was (or as it should be) in ways most others - including even me after years of knowing and working alongside her - find difficult to fathom.

" Four. Three. Two. One!"

As the countdown ends together with the old year cheers and jubilation from a hundred thousand muzzles and snouts drown out all other sounds, even the bursts of the fireworks above. Embraces, paw shakes and kisses are shared along with best wishes for a Happy New Year in a dozen different languages.

Amidst the celestial spectacle Manhattan as it was more than four hundred years manifests: A wilderness untouched by Western civilization, inhabited by the Lenape - the Atlantic's waves washing up against its shores, the peninsula itself covered in mixed forest only receding to be replaced by the occasional glade. As a sailing vessel appears on the distant horizon and its crew makes landfall the New Year vibe is unbroken - nobody seems to take note of the laser show supplementing the fireworks display! We've chosen the position of our flying canvas carefully so that it's visible from as much of Central Park as we can feasibly cover with what we've approved with our flight corridor, and yet...

"Alex... everything's in order here. All clear on your side?"

Jim's voice on our shared channel - Aurora is unable to follow the chatter, but we have no use for any kind of last-minute panic even if it looks very much like our expectations are falling short. I can't use it, that's for sure!

"All clear on our end. Let things run; only check in again if anything should actually go wrong."

Why isn't anyone watching? This question remains unspoken - I'm suppressing further inquiries on the spot. What else are we supposed to do but deliver what we've been contracted to do? If - when - our idea, our concept aren't heeded by the audience... what should we do? What should I do? If we fail to entertain the masses here and now as we hoped we would? Our business will fail along with our whole concept for today's evening... make it or break it indeed!

More ships come and go as the story unfolds further, trade develops and war is waged as the decades pass. Then the Dutch colony of New Netherland is formed, New Amsterdam is becoming its capital. A fort is constructed, the settlement grows into a small town. Decades pass as the wilderness of the peninsula slowly gives way to fields and orchards. Ships come and go as the settlement continues to expand... until one day frigates flying the Union Jack appear on the horizon: The British become the sovereign of the burgeoning town, and the American East Coast along with it.

And still no one takes notice! Taking care not to draw Aurora's attention I get up to look around: Everyone is mesmerized by the fireworks display, it seems our addition to the spectacle is getting lost in the spectacle above the park. There must be something to get folks to notice us... and there is!

Sitting back down I immediately get to work; I'll have to adjust our swarm's flight patterns on the go (and take some liberties with the presentation), but so help me God, our chance of a lifetime won't go to waste just because nobody watched.

"Don't be alarmed, I'm taking us higher."

Warning Jim and Anjali before taking things into my own paws seems prudent - first order of business is to make Aurora's display visible to a wider area. Next, while keeping the drones in range of our two projectors, I'll instruct the swarm to periodically rotate left and right so that a large range of viewing angles faces optimum illumination.

"Alex, are you sure? We're not supposed to transgress our flight corridor. It's called no-fly zone for a reason!"

I'm not a maverick by any stretch of imagination, but for saving our dream I'll rather ask for forgiveness than for permission.

"Your call, Xolo!"

A defining moment of the city's - the nation's - history draws closer; I don't have much time left to make the adjustments I have in mind. As the swarm ascends and adapts to my new instructions I patch into Aurora's storyboard. Usually it's her domain alone; now is a different situation. Her art prefers soft colors, subtle outlines. It's what makes it so appealing, not only to me - but today we have to contend with the New Year's eve sky as backdrop: We require luminosity more than anything else! So I add a simple contour filtering algorithm into the video stream and crank up the laser projectors to the limits of their projection output.

On the canvas the colony continues to flourish - the confidence of its residents growing along their prosperity - the discontent with the order of things brought to the New World from the old continent begins to grow: Why should a king half a world away reap the benefits without granting adequate representation to his citizens who have built a new life out of nothing? Citizens who have left the Old World in search for a better life, the opportunity to be the masters of their destiny? As no concessions are forthcoming, discontent first becomes dissent, then open opposition. The Declaration of Independence leads a young nation into a war for its very existence against a seemingly invincible enemy.

Just as Aurora's narrative proceeds to our nascent nation's cry for freedom I'm done with the alterations: Vibrant blue, red and white boost the outlines of the images dancing across the canvas easily rivalling the bright quilt of colors the pyrotechnics weave across the sky. I get up again, looking around to see if my impromptu work makes any difference. Nothing as my gaze wanders from one crowd to the next...

Until I spot a young hare looking skyward, spellbound by our story - she tugs at her mother's paw until the older rabbit acknowledges her daughter unmistakably begging to be carried on her shoulders. The pair falls silent for a few seconds; then their Oh!'s and Ah!'s resume, only not directed at the fireworks any more. They watch the bloody birth of a nation, a war led just like countless others throughout the centuries: Batallions marching towards each other, cavalry clashing into enemy formations, cannons unleashing deadly barrages. Even as their homeland burns and thousands amongst their ranks perish from hunger, disease and fighting the founders of our nation refuse to lay down arms - the wish for freedom, the belief in justice and equality stronger than anything a tyrant might do to them.

Mother and daughter are not the only ones captivated by the celestial dance of pictures: By the point the New York enters the 19th century - becoming the gateway to the New World, growing from a town to a veritable city housing ten thousands, then hundreds of thousands - by far not the only ones. As the intensity of the fireworks abates our performance continues without intermission, now free to unfurl its true potential, just as the city whose story it tells: A heartbeat of steam leads New York - together with the entire nation - into the Industrial Age. The American Dream - the promise, the prospect of being the architect of one's own fortune attracting millions of immigrants to fuel a rapid westbound expansion while the metropolitan belt on the eastern seaboard with New York at its center forms.

As decades pass by in a matter of minutes more and more spectators turn their full attention to the heavenly show made of Aurora depictions. Multitudes of phones and cameras are directed towards our airborne canvas to commit the happening to digital in addition to live memory: Shouts of joy and astonisment - and lack thereof - go along with ups and downs of New York's history on its way through the years. Even if sound and silence are out of reach for Aurora: Her tale carries much farther than the sound of words ever could, moving all who behold it in its own, unique way. She doesn't hold back when it comes to the dark side of the American Dream: Unfulfilled promises of equality, the disowned and displaced minorities left behind - or worse, perished - in the wake of our nation's rise to power.

As disparate ambition and reality may be, and no matter how battered and broken your dreams may be by the troubles of reality: Don't give up on them! Often all it takes to rekindle the belief in them is a reminder from time to time. I can see it in the faces of our audience - subtle smiles, even the occasional tear of joy - we have captivated the crowds! One dream - one Auroraand I share - has just come so much closer to becoming reality: After this show we have a viable chance to see our business earn our livelihoods. All things considered it's make and not break!

The tension and uncertainty of the last months finally eases, but just ever so slightly: Our narrative has almost reached the present - and with it the most nerve-racking event of this evening: To confess my true feelings for her to Aurora. The final sequence of our show will be an animated version of the real fireworks on this New Year's eve: My contribution is a short self-made clip that adds a sequence to Aurora's storyboard. Taking heart - and before confidence has a chance to abandon me - I add the secret end title to the playback queue before the narration comes to an end. Before I toss my earpiece aside I'm giving Anjali a short heads-up to take control of our drone swarm while Jim will be my spotter: It wouldn't do if the extra scene wasn't visible for the one it's intended for after all!

I haven't interrupted Aurorawhile she orchestrated our performance; only moments after I hit the Play button I finally dare to check up on her. The show took about ten minutes in total, but it's obvious that it must have been a titanic struggle for Aurora: She looks exhausted, a sorrowful frown etched into her features; ears drooping and whiskers twitching the pressure she must have been feeling must have been even worse than for me - and still she had the energy to reassure the bag of nerves that is me without letting on how precarious her own situation was.

Before she can ask how we did - even before she can check out by herself how the audience has received our work - she finds herself in a tight hug. My broad smile must have been a giveaway of the answer to the question she most certainly was about to ask for she noticably relaxes, leaning into my embrace as she finally has the opportunity to catch her breath. I can't keep her from witnessing our audience's reaction with her own eyes - how could I ever want to - so I let go, gently guiding her away from the little shack housing our equipment to get a better view on the park proper. Not to mention our canvas currently showing a stylized version of the real fireworks display all around it.

The closest group of spectators must have realized that we're part of the eve's act; applause erupts as almost instantly, accompanied by cheerful calls of Encore, encore! The hustle and bustle attracts more curious spectators who don't hesitate to join in. Paw in paw we bow to our admirers, deeply moved by their enthusiastic acclamation. A few rounds of showing our gratitude later - noticing the fireworks picking up in intensity again for its last capper - we finally have our paws free to talk.

"You lit up the park, gato!"

"Only thanks to you, Xolo. I may have been busy rescheduling my script on the fly when I realized we didn't do so hot at the start, but even I didn't miss your little digression from the official flight plan. Nor how you boosted the light show!"

"I may have taken some artistic liberties - I had to make sure your work is visible! Show business is no business if you're not seen... I am right, no?"

"You are, Xolo - this time, at least."

As my ears perk on her last remark it takes me a moment to realize she's jesting; her smirk is genuine, one reserved for those near and dear to her. How I wish in this very moment that I wasn't such a jumpy mess when it comes to personal matters!

"Aurora - you... I wish you could have seen more of your own performance. And how folks reacted to it. It was... magic. You... you performed magic! You had them under your spell the moment we... we pierced the skies."

Waving my right paw - Aurora watching me with a puzzled expression - I give the signal to Jim to realign our flying canvas towards the two of us. Better me making a fool of myself than her figuring out the surprise before I have the chance to confess my feelings, To ask the question that's on my mind since the day I met her. Overhead, our flying projection setup now rotates to face in our direction. As it does my self-made clip starts playing back - Aurora has realized immediately that this isn't part of the regular schedule: Up on the canvas her as good as I could manage counterpart finds an enchanted canine kneeling in front of her, his paws signing as fast as his signing language abilities allow him to...

"Just like you had me under your spell since we talked for the first time. Aurora, you have no idea how special you are... most of all to me. I've... just never found the courage to... to tell you. Who you are, what you do - it's amazing. You're amazing!"

Down here his real counterpart is struggling for words even as New York City watches.

"You're smart, gifted, funny... beautiful. And you've stuck around with me, the shy nerd nobody cares about, partnered up with me to found a company... I pondered so long how to tell you this, how to let you understand what I see in you: To me you're just like your namesake, the Aurora Borealis - the radiant lights illuminating the darkest nights. I need to ask you now, or I'll regret it for the rest of my life: Aurora, do you want to be more than my business partner - do you want to be my partner in all else, too?"

The world around us has fallen silent but for the noises of the fireworks; even if our exchange uses sign language situation is pretty clear to the bystanders: A proposal is going down! There are way more than a hundred spectators witnessing it, but in this very moment all I see, hear and feel is the feline of my dreams - the love of my life. She regards me for a few heartbeats, as if seeing me for the first time - an eternity that lasts an instant.

"Si, Xolo, si! I was afraid you'd never ask - you're the smartest fur I know, but sometimes you're just such an adorable fool! Did it ever cross your mind that I stuck around just because I think the same of you? That I value you friendship and company as much as you do mine?"

She pulls me up from where I kneel before her... did she just say Si? She must have - why else would she add I think the same of you? Unless... unless I am dreaming...

With one of her sweet smiles adorning her face one of her paws caresses the side of my snout, her touch sending a shiver up and down my spine, my tail starting to wag on its own. If this is a dream, then it is the most vivid one I've ever had.

"Artistic liberties, hm? Let me give this story a proper ending, mi amor - with you standing there slack-jawed like this I suppose you need proof that you're not dreaming!"

So this is what a lover's embrace feels like: One paw supporting the back of my head, the other pushing on my lower back, pulling me close to her... everything starts making sense again as her lips join mine in a passionate kiss. I am clay in her paws, ready to take any form she envisions: Leaning back as the kiss deepens some distant part of my mind registers the resurging cheers of the crowd sharing a small part of my boundless joy, fading away into one single exclamation of many voices as I yield to Aurora's embrace:

" Happy New Year!"