In the Concrete Empire the boundaries of your cage are drawn by others. One's reach is defined by one's control of information. In the twilight of the Industrial Revolution our perception of reality makes a fundamental shift in a vain attempt at keeping it's balance. We're rats in a maze of turnstiles and toll-booths. Where lines form to fill out lines on forms. Every day the consumer masses are likely to consult without reservation the electronic oracle. There's a hot, damp, stinking wind coming out of Washington blowing garbage around the streets of our cities. Youngsters hope to live long enough to get arrested. There's no arrest for the wicked. Droves of aging hippies are purchasing weapons. The rules, they are a'changing. Across the street a young man recites at a play. Across town his sister plays at a recital. Doctors, Lawyers and Musicians spend their whole lives practicing. In New York fashion centers the debate rages over the difference between "Neo-Retro" and "Nouveau-Retro". High up in air conditioned offices they're trying to figure out what the problem is. Over at the Polyphonic Institute of Technocracy, tax dollars are being spent on research and development, crafting new, unpronounceable words. However, we shall brook no babble. Silicon homesteads are moving into quiet suburban "business parks". Down town, buildings are being saved and people are being abandoned. Hospitals are full of people who are kept alive until their bank accounts run dry. People pushing their lives around in shopping carts are crashing through the guardrails of society. "Bag Lady" is a fashion statement. Time flies? Check your watch. Time kills. A man attempting to drown himself is saved by a whale. A woman on the outskirts of reality is raising a future president. A man with binoculars stares into a mirror with them. Patronizing patrons are waiting for waiters. Vegetarians are food for carnivores. Civilization is a concrete and plastic sandwich. The Wilderness of America is in the bowels of it's cities. Over at the Institute for Lower Learning they've made a science out of watching people work. Is Congress the opposite of progress? "Nothing keeps happening" keeps happening.
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