Any mathematical space upon which it's possible to “paint” locally well-behaved
coordinates like this is known as a manifold. An idealised sheet of rubber is a two-
dimensional manifold. So is the surface of the Earth; having a metric doesn't disqualify
you, it's just not part of the definition. In general relativity, spacetime is assumed to be a
four-dimensional manifold: at least locally, spacetime can always be given coordinates
like those of a four-dimensional grid.
Returning to the city, one question we still haven't dealt with is the fate of the idea
of a “vector”. Does this make any sense at all, without distances and angles?
Surprisingly, it does. For example, we can still compare one velocity to another, at least
at the same point. A train passing over twenty sleepers per second is, in a very real
sense, moving twice as fast as a ghostly second train sharing exactly the same stretch of
track but doing just ten sleepers per second; you don't need to worry about distances
between the sleepers to know who's being left behind. And the train is certainly moving
in a different direction than a car driving over a level crossing at the same location; the
angle between the road and the railway line might be undefined, but no matter how the
ground flexes to bring them together, the two different paths can't be made completely
indistinguishable.
It's easy to assign coordinates, vx and vy, to the train's velocity: just observe the
rate of change of the train's x- and y-coordinates. This tells you how fast it's passing
over the city's coordinate grid lines, rather than how fast it's passing over sleepers along
the track. In Euclidean space, this method agrees exactly with the usual way of splitting
up a velocity into components; with the grid in Figure 1 it would yield the expected
values in kilometres per hour. Without a metric, the values are just “coordinate units per
hour”. The particular values of vx and vy depend on the coordinate system being used,
but that's equally true with Euclidean coordinates: if you rotate your axes from north and
east to some other orientation, you measure components of the velocity in different
directions, so the values are different.
Still, the motion of the train along the track is something quite independent of any
grid painted over the city, and it ought to be possible to characterise it on its own terms.
In fact, there's a definition of a vector on a manifold that does this perfectly. Think of the
familiar “number line” of high school mathematics, and imagine drawing part of it on a
manifold, so it passes through some point P. There are lots of different ways you could
do this: crossing into P from different neighbouring points, and crowding or stretching
the numbers on the line by various degrees as you approach. (Even though there's no
such thing as distance, once you pick a certain curve through P you can compare two
ways of drawing the number line along that curve.) The combination of the direction in
which the line passes through P, and the rate at which the numbers are changing at P,
together define a unique tangent vector at P.