Recently, Pan finds himself lost in modern progressions,

•66/ —lost in the technology upheaval drowning out the old levers and pulleys, the era of numbers and buttons and clicks and hits and digital data shifting along zeros, Arabic numerals, and decimal points— He finds himself compelled to wander with his phone across town, among other commuters locked in their digital lives, meandering through the labyrinth of new telecommunication. A new application. A downloadable life. The Golden Mean projected along cables and airwaves and microwave-transmissions. The Next Big Thing hidden behind the curtain. His body trembles at the possibilities. At possible losses of the once foreseen future. All of the certainties silenced and forgotten. Pan smiles. Modern humanity existing with only the hum of night air motioning across slim curtains— it terrifies.
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