Futureproof in MTZ

The weekend passed like the nauseous, glorious nights once did always. And Sunday morning I dragged myself up from the rheum and the ache, the gradual settlement of memories cast randomly out into the noise scant hours before. I am no solstice marking transition from dark scrawls on cave walls to constrained debate in the symposium's back-halls. I am alive in each instant. I die when the sun rises. Yuppified by some contrived crisis. Electrified each time I throw my dice in.

The ether of an evening pasted to walls dissolved in the instant you notice you're breathing. Or a glimpsed reflection hastens the ecstasy's bleeding. The spindly figure in the foreground pulls down the scaffolding and brickwork. The architecture of scant seconds plunging, inert.

Don't you recognize you belong to something different? Generation Edge looking over unconcerned. Why aren't you ecstatic in the collapse of the Empire of burden, not the energy required for orbit or Enlightenment but the toil demanded by this carefully planned haberdashery. Do you know how close to freedom you are?