Beneath the peton-riven cliffs, aluminum shell-caves fill the valley, vomiting bipeds backpacked and fitted with special rock-gripping moss-chewing shoes. They fill the trails with their buffed bodies, steely philosophies and personal electronic assistants for immediate access to their mutual funds, brokers, offices, mistresses, homes, friends, fitness clubs, hotels, airlines, casinos. Satellite locators are held by the blessed few who can never get lost and this is their challenge, to prove that no harm can come to them, that they are shielded and protected by their technology. This is their faith, their deepest beliefs are rooted in the certainty of safety so long as they stay within the electronic fence of their new world.
But who is looking after their souls?
Fanfare for the Common Man
1 hour ago