Killspeak

The imagined futures of books and films are an in-growth of the moments in which they are made, symptoms of their time. Yet these futures are here, in the same moment as you, already part of the past made by the restlessness of now. The Crown Fountain unsettles your sense of the present. It’s beautiful, unreal, oddly familiar. There’s something uncomfortable in this confusion of times, in sharing today with others’ tomorrows.

The future is now, it’s just not well distributed. What would Philip K. Dick say?

In the past week, you’ve found yourself listening to Pendulum’s Plasticworld often. Its first minute, as it descends from orbit (Space Lion), is quite satisfying.