The supermodel was dressed in a turquoise dress and matching six inch heels whilst the various photographers milled around, shouting encouragement and redirecting lights in order to best illuminate the beautiful woman. She was stood next to a eight foot high pane of glass and gently rested her body against it, where her skin met the surface it all became the same featureless, flat colour.
"Tilt!" screamed the director. Pulleys were jigged about and the top of the glass began to descend, creating an angle growing less and less steep as the seconds ticked by.
"Hoist!" he yelled. The pane of glass began to slowly ascend. The scene was set. Silence had fallen over the crew as they watched the supermodel slowly begin to slide off the glass. Cameras tracked the viscosity of her skin as a strange squeaking sound filled the room. Just as her hips reached the bottom of the glass, she flopped down, landing slightly unsteadily on her feet.
"Great job! Can we go again at a thirty seven degree angle?" said the director. She nodded, going to one side to have her make-up reapplied as a window cleaner descended from above to clean the glass.
25.3.13
24.3.13
Candy Crush Sage
Bucharest. The word summons up for me images of the subtropics, boulevards, gardens, markets. There seemed to me to be an element of light danger, cold war paranoia mixed with film noir, that I couldn't help but feel slightly on my toes as I left the airport. Eighty minutes later I was at the headquarters of one of the fastest growing online gaming companies this side of the millenium. I wait at the reception for a while and look at several large oil paintings mounted on each wall. They are abstract, red on red, and I can't help but get up to examine one more closely. My field of view is entirely submersed into the painting, though a tap on the shoulder jolts me out of my fugue.
"Riccardo Zacconi will see you now." says the receptionist. I nod solemnly and make my way towards the stairs, wondering exactly how I got to be at the headquarters of king.com in the first place.
I entered the office of Zacconi and see a short, strong man sitting on a stool by a large desk up against a small window. He turns as I enter and gestures that I should sit, which I do quite happily. I watch him work for a while, he seems to be playing a game on a flat computer. The bleeps and bloops punctuate the dreamy soundtrack from time to time, as does the odd word in Romanian I can't recognize yet feel they are uttered in anger. He is of course playing Candy Crush Saga, the flagship game from king.com. With more than four billion users playing the game worldwide and more each day, Candy Crush Saga is taking both the digital and physical world by storm. Zacconi finishes the game and shakes his head before coming over to sit on the floor by me. We both introduce ourselves formally and I begin the interview.
"So, tell me a bit about yourself, about the company." I say. Zacconi glances back to the flat computer at his desk and his face twitches.
"My name is Riccardo Zacconi, I am the lead designer of digital games at king.com. We started here ten years ago, as midasgames, now we're one of the biggest suppliers of games on the market. Forget this call of duty or halo. Does your sister play that? Can a child play that? No. We design games for everyone." he says.
"And so you think that is why Candy Crush has been so successful?"
"Of course. It doesn't need any explanation, it's simple. It is the occam's razor of entertainment."
"Could you tell me about Candy Crush? How it came to be? Where it's going?" I say, leaning forward slightly. Zacconi rubs at a scar on his cheek before placing a delicate hand on my shoe.
"It came to me in a dream. At least, I think it was a dream. American candies, falling, exploding, fitting into place. Patterns of colour. When I woke I had already been doing the preliminary coding for the thing in my sleep, scrawled in pen on my wife's back." he says quietly.
"But what's the concept behind it?" I say. I knew what the game was about. Players moved pieces around in order to create rows that would make pieces disappear in order for more pieces to fall from the top. This in itself was nothing new, though it was the combination of aesthetics, sound, tactics and luck that had made the game successful. Not to mention the social media aspect of requesting extra lives or 'tickets' in order to progress in the game. 24% of all facebook activity over the last few months had been people sending lives back and forth over Candy Crush.
"The concept? Ah. Follow me please." says Zacconi, getting up. I offer him a hand to steady himself but he refuses, as is the way of lead designers.
We are now walking through a dimly lit office, the only light emanates from the CRT monitors stationed in each cubicle. There might be three or four hundred people on this floor, I know that the building is about forty stories high.
"What most people forget is that the game is called Candy Crush Saga. Emphasis on the saga aspect. Consider Beowulf, Sturlunga, Volsunga and so on. Perhaps the more contemporary would be Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, you see? But what these things have in common besides thematic similarities such as epic journeys or good and evil, is that they take time to fully digest. It is the time aspect that allows people to become attached to the characters and the world to such an extent it creates a kind of third place, between fact and fiction, you see?" he says. I nod, knowing exactly what he means. Elvis Presley, the JFK assassination, television soaps, the concept of family, biker culture and so on. On the surface each of these seemed to be more of a hobby than anything else, yet often these would become the subject of fanaticism.
"So what you're saying is that computer games are the next form of communication? Like books or film. And you see Candy Crush Saga as being a great work in this artform?"
"Precisely. The last thirty years of gaming has been shit. Candy Crush Saga is changing the world. You don't need realistic models, artificial intelligence or physics. It's all about the plot, the story, the human element. And what is more human than struggle? The underlying plot of the game is that of a journey, though one of pacifism. The average person can identify more with Ghandi than they can Jack the Ripper." he says. We have stopped walking and have arrived at a balcony overlooking Bucharest. The sun has begun to set, though the air is still warm.
"Can they though? Maybe part of the reason that things like murder have such a prevalence in our culture is that we, as human animals, enjoy that kind of thing?" I say. Zacconi turns to me. Maybe I see a tear in his eye, though he seems to reabsorb it.
"Just because that's the way it is doesn't mean we can't make steps to change it, you see? Candy Crush Saga is the first step in the complete pacification of world culture through computer games. We have started a trend in this type of gaming that will advance for decades, long after this company has been bought out. It is Vegetarianism. It is Buddhism. It is Marxism. It will change the world." he says. My phone beeps. One of my friends has requested that I send them a train ticket so that they can reach lemonade lake, and I oblige without thinking. Maybe Zacconi is right. He is crafting a subconscious mode of thinking through social gaming that appeals to everyone, no matter the creed or the colour, gender or age. I wonder what the world could be like if Zacconi had more sinister intentions, promoting illegal or immoral activities. Though as I turn from the Romanian sunset and look upon the visage of Zacconi I see a man with a pure heart, his expression set into that of a man gazing into the potential of tomorrow, a world he could have a hand in forging through Candy Crush Saga.
"Riccardo Zacconi will see you now." says the receptionist. I nod solemnly and make my way towards the stairs, wondering exactly how I got to be at the headquarters of king.com in the first place.
I entered the office of Zacconi and see a short, strong man sitting on a stool by a large desk up against a small window. He turns as I enter and gestures that I should sit, which I do quite happily. I watch him work for a while, he seems to be playing a game on a flat computer. The bleeps and bloops punctuate the dreamy soundtrack from time to time, as does the odd word in Romanian I can't recognize yet feel they are uttered in anger. He is of course playing Candy Crush Saga, the flagship game from king.com. With more than four billion users playing the game worldwide and more each day, Candy Crush Saga is taking both the digital and physical world by storm. Zacconi finishes the game and shakes his head before coming over to sit on the floor by me. We both introduce ourselves formally and I begin the interview.
"So, tell me a bit about yourself, about the company." I say. Zacconi glances back to the flat computer at his desk and his face twitches.
"My name is Riccardo Zacconi, I am the lead designer of digital games at king.com. We started here ten years ago, as midasgames, now we're one of the biggest suppliers of games on the market. Forget this call of duty or halo. Does your sister play that? Can a child play that? No. We design games for everyone." he says.
"And so you think that is why Candy Crush has been so successful?"
"Of course. It doesn't need any explanation, it's simple. It is the occam's razor of entertainment."
"Could you tell me about Candy Crush? How it came to be? Where it's going?" I say, leaning forward slightly. Zacconi rubs at a scar on his cheek before placing a delicate hand on my shoe.
"It came to me in a dream. At least, I think it was a dream. American candies, falling, exploding, fitting into place. Patterns of colour. When I woke I had already been doing the preliminary coding for the thing in my sleep, scrawled in pen on my wife's back." he says quietly.
"But what's the concept behind it?" I say. I knew what the game was about. Players moved pieces around in order to create rows that would make pieces disappear in order for more pieces to fall from the top. This in itself was nothing new, though it was the combination of aesthetics, sound, tactics and luck that had made the game successful. Not to mention the social media aspect of requesting extra lives or 'tickets' in order to progress in the game. 24% of all facebook activity over the last few months had been people sending lives back and forth over Candy Crush.
"The concept? Ah. Follow me please." says Zacconi, getting up. I offer him a hand to steady himself but he refuses, as is the way of lead designers.
We are now walking through a dimly lit office, the only light emanates from the CRT monitors stationed in each cubicle. There might be three or four hundred people on this floor, I know that the building is about forty stories high.
"What most people forget is that the game is called Candy Crush Saga. Emphasis on the saga aspect. Consider Beowulf, Sturlunga, Volsunga and so on. Perhaps the more contemporary would be Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, you see? But what these things have in common besides thematic similarities such as epic journeys or good and evil, is that they take time to fully digest. It is the time aspect that allows people to become attached to the characters and the world to such an extent it creates a kind of third place, between fact and fiction, you see?" he says. I nod, knowing exactly what he means. Elvis Presley, the JFK assassination, television soaps, the concept of family, biker culture and so on. On the surface each of these seemed to be more of a hobby than anything else, yet often these would become the subject of fanaticism.
"So what you're saying is that computer games are the next form of communication? Like books or film. And you see Candy Crush Saga as being a great work in this artform?"
"Precisely. The last thirty years of gaming has been shit. Candy Crush Saga is changing the world. You don't need realistic models, artificial intelligence or physics. It's all about the plot, the story, the human element. And what is more human than struggle? The underlying plot of the game is that of a journey, though one of pacifism. The average person can identify more with Ghandi than they can Jack the Ripper." he says. We have stopped walking and have arrived at a balcony overlooking Bucharest. The sun has begun to set, though the air is still warm.
"Can they though? Maybe part of the reason that things like murder have such a prevalence in our culture is that we, as human animals, enjoy that kind of thing?" I say. Zacconi turns to me. Maybe I see a tear in his eye, though he seems to reabsorb it.
"Just because that's the way it is doesn't mean we can't make steps to change it, you see? Candy Crush Saga is the first step in the complete pacification of world culture through computer games. We have started a trend in this type of gaming that will advance for decades, long after this company has been bought out. It is Vegetarianism. It is Buddhism. It is Marxism. It will change the world." he says. My phone beeps. One of my friends has requested that I send them a train ticket so that they can reach lemonade lake, and I oblige without thinking. Maybe Zacconi is right. He is crafting a subconscious mode of thinking through social gaming that appeals to everyone, no matter the creed or the colour, gender or age. I wonder what the world could be like if Zacconi had more sinister intentions, promoting illegal or immoral activities. Though as I turn from the Romanian sunset and look upon the visage of Zacconi I see a man with a pure heart, his expression set into that of a man gazing into the potential of tomorrow, a world he could have a hand in forging through Candy Crush Saga.
21.3.13
The Insect Eaters
A chart showing rising food prices. Statistics on global warming. Words such as 'overpopulation', 'taste risk' and 'megavalue' flashed by on the powerpoint presentation. Somebody was talking in the background, though I couldn't quite hear him due to the incessant buzzing coming from a hollow glass cube containing wasps. The presentation finishes.
"Any questions?" says Michael Smith, founder of Snacksects. I put up my hand slowly. I am the only person in the audience besides an apiculturist and his daughter, though both have fallen asleep.
"So, what was that presentation about again?" I say, finally taking out my dictaphone.
"Essentially we believe that due to the current food predictions, done by scientists, we will inevitably have to eat insects in order to feed the world. Well, they already eat them around the world anyway. We at Snacksects wish to bring insect eating to the West through a mixture of marketing strategies, rebranding insects as a potential food item and presenting these food items in an aesthetically pleasing way." he said.
"Okay. But if that's the case, why don't people just keep insects at home? It must be easier than gardening." I said, with no real idea how difficult either gardening or insect farming actually is. Michael Smith laughs a hearty laugh, shakes his head then leans against the podium.
"Anybody can farm insects, true. But then they can grow their own vegetables, keep cattle and so on. Why don't they? Because it takes up too much time essentially. Why go to the trouble of buying a greenhouse, maintaining it, buying soil, seeds and so on when you can go to the shop and buy whatever you want? Not only that, we have identified the best way to make consumers desire to eat insects."
"By making them into burgers?" I said, remembering a few pictures from earlier.
"That is one revenue stream, correct. We also have a range of oven chips made from maggots, dry-roasted beetles, chocolate coated ants and so on. Some people don't like to eat cuts of meat as it reminds them too much that it came from an animal. So we have decided that by processing the base product to such an extent that it is unrecognisable, people will eat it." he says. I nod and begin to wonder about the possibility that insects would be widely consumed in the west. Perhaps the horse meat scandal was part of a media conspiracy in order for people to be unsure about beef. It would only take a few youtube videos in order to change public opinion entirely. They had their work cut out after the many reality shows having contestants eating live insects as part of a task, though this is as ridiculous as trying to eat a live pig or a live lamb.
Into the presentation room a plate of highly processed ant cubes are brought out, each covered in a layer of salt and vinegar flavourings, preservatives, wheat extract and sugar. I accept one and put it in my pocket for later, I wondered what would happen if it was dropped off a motorway bridge onto a car windscreen below.
"Any questions?" says Michael Smith, founder of Snacksects. I put up my hand slowly. I am the only person in the audience besides an apiculturist and his daughter, though both have fallen asleep.
"So, what was that presentation about again?" I say, finally taking out my dictaphone.
"Essentially we believe that due to the current food predictions, done by scientists, we will inevitably have to eat insects in order to feed the world. Well, they already eat them around the world anyway. We at Snacksects wish to bring insect eating to the West through a mixture of marketing strategies, rebranding insects as a potential food item and presenting these food items in an aesthetically pleasing way." he said.
"Okay. But if that's the case, why don't people just keep insects at home? It must be easier than gardening." I said, with no real idea how difficult either gardening or insect farming actually is. Michael Smith laughs a hearty laugh, shakes his head then leans against the podium.
"Anybody can farm insects, true. But then they can grow their own vegetables, keep cattle and so on. Why don't they? Because it takes up too much time essentially. Why go to the trouble of buying a greenhouse, maintaining it, buying soil, seeds and so on when you can go to the shop and buy whatever you want? Not only that, we have identified the best way to make consumers desire to eat insects."
"By making them into burgers?" I said, remembering a few pictures from earlier.
"That is one revenue stream, correct. We also have a range of oven chips made from maggots, dry-roasted beetles, chocolate coated ants and so on. Some people don't like to eat cuts of meat as it reminds them too much that it came from an animal. So we have decided that by processing the base product to such an extent that it is unrecognisable, people will eat it." he says. I nod and begin to wonder about the possibility that insects would be widely consumed in the west. Perhaps the horse meat scandal was part of a media conspiracy in order for people to be unsure about beef. It would only take a few youtube videos in order to change public opinion entirely. They had their work cut out after the many reality shows having contestants eating live insects as part of a task, though this is as ridiculous as trying to eat a live pig or a live lamb.
Into the presentation room a plate of highly processed ant cubes are brought out, each covered in a layer of salt and vinegar flavourings, preservatives, wheat extract and sugar. I accept one and put it in my pocket for later, I wondered what would happen if it was dropped off a motorway bridge onto a car windscreen below.
17.3.13
Dinner Evening, 17th March
On the table across from me sits one of the most prodigious actors of our time. He is one of Britain's most prolific male actors with a career that spans decades, working with the likes of Martin Scorsese, Johnny Depp, Timothy Dalton and Christian Slater. He is Kevin Eldon, the actor. Kevin Eldon is surprisingly almost unrecognisable upon meeting him for the first time. He wears the expression of a powerful man, his trademark familiar face somehow reverting to an almost reptilian-like coolness sunk just millimetres beneath the pale meat. We are drinking Eldon's favourite claret: 'Boca Vino'. It is a thoughtful, deep bordeaux, with a kind of musky scent that lingers on the senses long after ingestion. I'd like to say that these traits were also common in Eldon, but he is more man than wine. We have arranged the dinner in order to discuss his new BBC 2 comedy sketch show 'It's Kevin.' though discussion has moved onto other topics.
"You see, I could have been Alan Partridge. It was my idea basically. The thing they changed was the catchphrase being 'A-Ha!', instead of having my idea.'I'm here!' he'd say. But he'd say it high pitched. That's the thing about inventing a comedy character that is taken in a different direction. Really, I'm the best Alan Partridge impersonator that there ever was. As Steve Coogan was doing an impression of my impression. It just changed the dynamic too much." says Eldon. We are eating white veal served with olives, tomatoes and roast parsnips. The food is delicious, I can understand why Eldon is a regular. As he continues to methodically eat his food, he has just finished a ten minute monologue about nineties British comedy. He is an excellent story teller and I had heard many other interesting, often funny, stories in the previous hour ranging from his experiences in stand-up comedy, his love of hiking, his brushes with death and his thoughts on conspiracy theories, especially regarding global warming.
"So...what do you think about twitter?"
"Well it's a good thing you brought it up as I was just going to say that I read something on twitter the other day that I think you may find funny, but first I must explain a few things." Kevin stops midsentence and looks over my shoulder. I turn and see that the famous DJ Stuart Maconie has entered the restaurant and is sitting a few tables behind us. He is alone.
"Fucking Stuart Maconie." says Eldon, losing his calm exterior for a second so that I see a flash of the beast, as if he was just a curtain containing some snarling bag of hate filled ape, all made of hot piss and fingernails.
"You have a problem with Stuart Maconie?"
"No, not at all. We've known each other since 1989. You know, some say that was the second summer of love, don't they?"
"I think they do."
"Did you do much of that then? You know, gone to one of those parties, taken ecstasy, ." said Eldon. He slices an olive in half and with great care lances it with a single tine.
"I have."
"Me too. So did Stuart Maconie. Anyway, what was it you were asking me about?"
Just as we are finishing up our main course a waiter arrives carrying a silver tray. On top are two glasses of lager.
"What is this?" says Eldon to the waiter, annoyed.
"Your friend sent them over." said the waiter, setting the drinks down onto the table. I go to turn around again but Eldon signals for me not to react.
"Thank you." says Eldon. The waiter leaves us to stare at the two pints of lager. They look ridiculous and crass by our empty plates and glasses of wine.
"Fucking Stuart Maconie. Every time." says Eldon, shaking his head. He then continues his story about the possible film he'd be starring in, a biopic of Alan Turing. Our plates are taken away and we wait for dessert. Eldon drinks both pints. When the cheese board is brought Eldon signals for the waiter to come closer.
"I'd like for you to send a glass of wine vinegar over to Stuart Maconie's table."
"Vinegar?"
"Yes. Tell him that it's what we're drinking."
"I can't serve a glass of vinegar Mr. Eldon." says the waiter. I watch all of this silently, chewing slowly on a lump of cheese. It has the atmosphere of a nightmare.
"Are you listening to me? I am friends with your boss. I have been coming to this restaurant for almost fifteen years. I am Kevin Eldon. So why don't you do what I fucking say?" says Eldon. The boy nods and walks off quickly, face red. Eldon cuts himself a slice of cheese and rubs at his jaw.
"You know, I sometimes think it's funny that people consider that they know who Kevin Eldon is because I appear on their televisions or laptops or phones. My trade as a comedian has lead people to think I am somehow the act I put on to entertain the public. But they forget that it's just a job for me. I am superimposed onto reality you know? I have projected a concept of myself outward and people consider it to be the truth. When the truth is I'm shape shifting. I am shape shifting before your very eyes and you cannot believe it." says Kevin Eldon. I nod, beginning to understand. He was an actor.
"You see, I could have been Alan Partridge. It was my idea basically. The thing they changed was the catchphrase being 'A-Ha!', instead of having my idea.'I'm here!' he'd say. But he'd say it high pitched. That's the thing about inventing a comedy character that is taken in a different direction. Really, I'm the best Alan Partridge impersonator that there ever was. As Steve Coogan was doing an impression of my impression. It just changed the dynamic too much." says Eldon. We are eating white veal served with olives, tomatoes and roast parsnips. The food is delicious, I can understand why Eldon is a regular. As he continues to methodically eat his food, he has just finished a ten minute monologue about nineties British comedy. He is an excellent story teller and I had heard many other interesting, often funny, stories in the previous hour ranging from his experiences in stand-up comedy, his love of hiking, his brushes with death and his thoughts on conspiracy theories, especially regarding global warming.
"So...what do you think about twitter?"
"Well it's a good thing you brought it up as I was just going to say that I read something on twitter the other day that I think you may find funny, but first I must explain a few things." Kevin stops midsentence and looks over my shoulder. I turn and see that the famous DJ Stuart Maconie has entered the restaurant and is sitting a few tables behind us. He is alone.
"Fucking Stuart Maconie." says Eldon, losing his calm exterior for a second so that I see a flash of the beast, as if he was just a curtain containing some snarling bag of hate filled ape, all made of hot piss and fingernails.
"You have a problem with Stuart Maconie?"
"No, not at all. We've known each other since 1989. You know, some say that was the second summer of love, don't they?"
"I think they do."
"Did you do much of that then? You know, gone to one of those parties, taken ecstasy, ." said Eldon. He slices an olive in half and with great care lances it with a single tine.
"I have."
"Me too. So did Stuart Maconie. Anyway, what was it you were asking me about?"
Just as we are finishing up our main course a waiter arrives carrying a silver tray. On top are two glasses of lager.
"What is this?" says Eldon to the waiter, annoyed.
"Your friend sent them over." said the waiter, setting the drinks down onto the table. I go to turn around again but Eldon signals for me not to react.
"Thank you." says Eldon. The waiter leaves us to stare at the two pints of lager. They look ridiculous and crass by our empty plates and glasses of wine.
"Fucking Stuart Maconie. Every time." says Eldon, shaking his head. He then continues his story about the possible film he'd be starring in, a biopic of Alan Turing. Our plates are taken away and we wait for dessert. Eldon drinks both pints. When the cheese board is brought Eldon signals for the waiter to come closer.
"I'd like for you to send a glass of wine vinegar over to Stuart Maconie's table."
"Vinegar?"
"Yes. Tell him that it's what we're drinking."
"I can't serve a glass of vinegar Mr. Eldon." says the waiter. I watch all of this silently, chewing slowly on a lump of cheese. It has the atmosphere of a nightmare.
"Are you listening to me? I am friends with your boss. I have been coming to this restaurant for almost fifteen years. I am Kevin Eldon. So why don't you do what I fucking say?" says Eldon. The boy nods and walks off quickly, face red. Eldon cuts himself a slice of cheese and rubs at his jaw.
"You know, I sometimes think it's funny that people consider that they know who Kevin Eldon is because I appear on their televisions or laptops or phones. My trade as a comedian has lead people to think I am somehow the act I put on to entertain the public. But they forget that it's just a job for me. I am superimposed onto reality you know? I have projected a concept of myself outward and people consider it to be the truth. When the truth is I'm shape shifting. I am shape shifting before your very eyes and you cannot believe it." says Kevin Eldon. I nod, beginning to understand. He was an actor.
11.3.13
On The Criticism Of Jean Baudrillard
Or 'Mungo's Revenge', as it was affectionately known in some circles, definitely happened the other night in the city of Manchester, England. A feast for the eyes and laser surgery for the belly, OTCOJB (MR) specified the doubts and fears of a pre-apocalyptic society that had previously been unuttered for some unknown reason. Yet OTCOJB was a terrifying success, each piece of criticism raining mental and spiritual devastation, caught in the blast from nuclear weapons, bound by the spider and having a steel straw plunged into your body, over and over, removing the juices whilst kept alive for days (insect/human hybrids)
"When invading Europe the Romans created a map the exact same size as the land they were conquering, the parchment covering miles upon miles of forests, mountains and towns. As the decades wore on the plants and animals died, leaving early Europeans to crawl beneath the fading and yellowing parchment, drawing beneath a map of the sky. Surviving shreds of this map are encased in glass two thousand years later, looked at by the withered descendants of this land. Google are doing the same thing but with computers." - Jean Baudrillard 1998
On The Criticism Of Jean Baudrillard.
Examples provided from Dr. DC and Dr. SR.
"When invading Europe the Romans created a map the exact same size as the land they were conquering, the parchment covering miles upon miles of forests, mountains and towns. As the decades wore on the plants and animals died, leaving early Europeans to crawl beneath the fading and yellowing parchment, drawing beneath a map of the sky. Surviving shreds of this map are encased in glass two thousand years later, looked at by the withered descendants of this land. Google are doing the same thing but with computers." - Jean Baudrillard 1998
On The Criticism Of Jean Baudrillard.
Examples provided from Dr. DC and Dr. SR.
Information Light
The executives waited in the foyer, mouths open, eyes vacant. They appeared to be subintellectuals and in fact they were, except when it came to business. A sort of capitalist autism had set into each of them, smashing down the labyrinth walls of the mind to make way for the monothought.
10.3.13
6.3.13
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