Abiteremo una comunità di intelligenze a cui avremo accesso immediato. “Quando il connubio tra uomini, donne e macchine sarà completo, questo genere di letteratura diventerà obsoleto perché allora ci comprenderemo troppo bene. Now there options were closed, they managed to keep themselves going with some shred of intellectual longing or curiosity. They had swept past some crucial junction in their lives many years back - a poor career choice, a bad marriage, the unwritten book, the illness that never went away. I noted the men especially and their shabby clothes. I had seen them in Simon's shop, reaching for the quality journals from the top shelf. There was a lot like me in the neighbourhood, but thirty or forty years older. The two boxes I called rooms, the stained ceilings walls and floors would contain me to the end. As I stared at the litter of cups and pot and jug in front of me, I thought it was unlikely I would ever get out of my wretched little flat.
For minutes on end I couldn't remember what kept me going. I was subject to occasional depression, relatively mild, certainly not suicidal, and not long episodes so much as passing moments like this, when meaning and purpose and all prospect of pleasure drained away and left me briefly catatonic.
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