The neon sign flickered in sporadic bursts of electric color, casting its cynical promise across the cracked asphalt of the near-deserted street. “Privacy Sold Here,” it said, —as if privacy could be commodified, packaged, and distributed like so many cans of processed meat. But this was San Angeles, 2051. An urban sprawl that had metastasized across the scorched earth, swallowing town after town in a meshwork of cables, silicone, and carbon fiber.
Many walls were built and pulled down. Walls that divide people. Everyone believed that those walls were dividing the world. That East and West were separating people into ‘us’ or ’them.’
I thought that the reason people made small talk, you know, like standing in line at the grocery store, and, “oh, nice day today”. I thought that the reason people did stuff like that was because they had nothing interesting to think about inside their heads.
