NEW YORK - It is sometime between 3 and 4 in the morning. I wake up and stick my head out my apartment window. No car alarms, no sirens, no loud conversations. The only thing I can hear is the drone of dozens of air conditioners in the sticky July night.

But I don't feel lonely. I know that a few miles away, Jennifer Edson is likely surfing the Web and catching up on e-mail. Down in Texas, Wade Rayburn will be getting up for his nocturnal swim, and Ben Vizcaino is finishing his workout at the gym, perhaps heading for an all-night supermarket. In Connecticut, Dottie Smith will soon be rising to work on her house.