pretty much all of us have a finger on the skittering pulse of a dying civilisation these days. Not all of us agree on the diagnosis but there’s a consensus on prognosis – the patient is very sick and may not make it through the night ahead. The orphans in the orphanage are off their heads on acid, mesmerised by shiny lights and tricksy patterns traced on their overloaded circuitry and the adults are all dead or dying and glad of it, all just an undirected pantomime

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