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from all possible angles, for a tapeloop to be
shown to their grandchildren each day, at school,
in lieu of being taught about understanding
consciousness and motivation.
When I couldn't take it there, anymore, I got a disease-infested, cardboard hut, soaked in mud and garbage, at the edge of a tent-city slum on the outskirts of town. All the weirdoes from the populations of surrounding nations were housed here, so things back home, everywhere, could now run clean and smooth.
To pass the boredom of Impoverished Peoples' |
Savings Time, I sat around old, abandoned, cardboard cafes, sketching out possible humans on pieces of used, leftover, paper napkins. If I came up with one I liked, and had specified the DNA precisely enough, I could take it right down to the neighborhood fabrication center, and a few hours later, get back a full-blown, living, breathing, thinking, hoping, seething, suppurating human. But then what?
When I tried to look into my future, the only road I could see ahead was the one that started and ended with one of those institutions where they
Book: TABLE OF CONTENTS |