A phalanx of punters stand in line, behind the lines, while the faux Sphinx, in the shadows just across the road, smirks down at them. This is one wave of many. From dawn until dusk they shuffle towards buses operated by The Kee Kwan Motor Road Company. This endless thread of mostly cackling Cantonese come and go. Arrive to blow their hard earned Renminbi. And then, after 24 hours in sunless rooms, bathed in the dayglo-eque of pachinko parlour neon, they leave bleary eyed for their short haul back through the iron curtain.

At the station, a haze of diesel hangs in the air, as the coaches grind in and out. Supply and demand, that's what keeps their wheels turning. With air-conditioning turned up full, arrivees, half frozen in their recliner seats, peer down through foggy, condensation smeared windows, at the bedraggled, sweaty and money depleted legions waiting in the soggy air outside. Incoming punters eager to start gambling, their minds racing, but their bodies stiff and numb, alight awkwardly from the buses and begin to steam as the polar air clinging to them, meets the topics. Those on the outside, waiting in line, relish the thought of the big freeze. It's one for the other. The swop.

The ebb and flow of it all, it's written in the book. The log. Puntopia's surveillance apparatus keeps face files. Just for the records. They need to know who's coming and going. Who is spending and who isn't. Who is winning and losing. Where they come from. Where they go. The bus lines, the operators, they help keep the tracking on track too. It's just another day behind the lines.

It’s all hush hush here behind the velvet drapes. His barely discernible footsteps muffled in plush pile carpets all the while, louder, is the squeak of his starched green tunic.

This night, like all of them, around this corner of the Gambling Industrial complex, fusty air hangs under glowing ceiling lamps. The night is still young but it feels old, and stale. He's been here far too long. He just keeps his mouth shut and walks the blocks. Taking 90 degree turns, pacing through the City of Dreams, Block- A, B, C, D.

His repetitive long march, from the front to the back and from the back to the front, night after night, along red corridors, the colour of his arm bands. Two crimson ribbons with a number instead of his name, signifies that he's security detail. City of Dreams, or is that City of screams?

He clocks in as a Red Guard Security employee? No coincidence it seems in the name. Around here people don't get the book thrown at them, but they do get thrown out for unruly behaviour. And get trussed up and a good hiding if found trying to cheating the system.

Clock in, clock out. Puntopia’s legions of ‘workers’ toil 24/7/365. That’s not a date. It’s the number of days they work. All day, every day. All day, all night. Shifts break on the hour, every hour. Back door entry. Back door exit. Usually sidling past half asleep security personnel, dozing off in their cubicles. It’s a strange twilight existence. They work day shifts. They sleep all night. They work night shifts. They sleep all day. No wonder their already yellow skin, turns a funny mustard orange. It’s lack of vitamin A, D and C.

They arrive dressed all dandy, cheap leather jackets with tiger motifs on the back are a favorite among the male staff. Who work long hours dreaming of a better life. They change into dull gun metal grey jackets, trousers and white shirts. Many decide to drop out of full time Puntopia employment and join the local triads, so they can wear their leather jacket all day, every day. They can also then look forward to been on the other side of the gambling tables.

Spending the proceeds of their latest heist or money laundering scam. Much more glamorous. And having a dolly bird in a leather jacket with a tiger motif on her back too, is for many of these young men, the pinnacle of accomplishment.

Is life for many merely a holding pattern? A repeated and often unattractive design they adhere to, and then, eventually, cease to exist in the matrix they call life! It certainly can appear that way for many of Puntopia's taxi ubermatons. AI hasn't yet rendered them totally superfluous, so they hang onto the only thing they know, and that is the rank and file, waiting in line pattern. Less of a pattern. More akin to a single straight line.

Much of their existence is preoccupied with three holding positions, those which are, ironically, associated with the hurry up and wait world of aviation. Airport apron and runway protocols are analogous to hotel forecourts and shopping arcade drive-throughs.

Duplicity is defined by the three. Namely the straight, parallel and teardrop. The teardrop is self explanatory. Namely a regimen so mind numbingly tedious that the person holding the teardrop, is prone to tears. Shuffle forward. Wait. Shuffle forwards. Wait. Shuffle forward. Wait. Wait some more. Shuffle forwards. Wait. Finally pickup. Drive away. Turn a few corners. Grind to halt in traffic. Drop off. Return to grid. Take up holding pattern. Repeat Process.

As hinted upon earlier, tech is destined to disrupt or remove entirely human cognitive input associated with the holding pattern equation. For the taxi driver ubermatons are ultimately going to be made redundant and holding patterns for them will simply become withholding routines. Their purpose or usefulness will be relegated to base levels of uselessness. With simply nothing to do, no where to go, no lines to inhabit, or patterns to entwine and therefore contain their deep sense of futility and despair, they will ultimately form another intriguing pattern. That of the spiral. Which ultimately is a path or trajectory that disappears into itself. Gone for good. Or bad. Whichever way one prefers to look at it.

"Around Puntopia, if one has a very keen eye, one can spot the high high rollers with a Heist suitcase.

Heists come in a myriad shapes and designs, and serve just one purpose. They are specifically designed for transporting $1 million in cash- discreetly. And that takes a special kind of suitcase.

Inconspicuous travel is the name of the game around Puntopia and the Heist has a radio frequency (RF) shielding pouch that costs $720, which helps with that cool million in carry-on, carry in, carry out. Although as is quite often the case (excuse the pun) it's empty when those high rollers exit the revolving out through the in-doors.

Heist cases are renowned for their discreet designs with high maneuverability characteristics. Perfect for international clients with a global remit.

One of the factors considered in designing Heists, is the 'glide factor' as in the extent to which a full or partially full case slides across a marble floor. Nothing worse, when a fat cat slides his case of cash across the foyer, to his gambling buddy (sometimes they work in pairs), only to watch it get stuck in the middle. I mean who’s going to walk to get it? He got it? Or did someone else get it?

Also, "bounce" is carefully considered in the Heist's savvy design. Bounce is the pesky problem of used bills taking up more space than crisp, new dollars: With new bills, it seems, they can fit stacks on stacks on stacks. But with used bills, they can only fit stacks on stacks. The Heist case solves that problem by accommodating up to $1 million USD in used bills.

Yes the Heist seems like a discreet way to transport a million dollars, so long as they can resist the urge to Instagram the moment."