Hero finds himself tumbling down a tube; a Tunnel of Visions, or a TV for short.
Along the horizontal scan line, he spies a black monolith emerging from the dusts of time. "Thus Spake Zarathustra," it says to him in flashdance bursts. "The Enlightened Millenium is upon us." Hero stares at the flashing monolith in awe. His bird brain binds to the monolith's blinding lights. His herd-again ears hang onto every captivating tone within its cacophony of remixed messages. "We shall reveal for you a most wonderous secret," it promises, "on the other side of the break."
Hero sees the monolith growing and expanding, becoming a black streak spreading itself from farm to field in a relentless chase after its own tail.
Busy bee dots swarm up to cover the enlarging black tarp. Their wheels spin furiously in a stampede like rush towards the promised land: Extopia. Gushers of Juice snake behind the dots, feeding them with life and motion, feeding the black tarp with a darkish glue that holds its gravelous rocks together. The tarp advances from mall to mall and from Sears to shining Sears.
"T'is the Trail to Eden," he murmurs. "The Invisible Hand guides our growth and guides us to an inevitable array of prosperous futures. The Markets provide us, each with his wants, each according his ability to pay. Our Technology delivers. We are negotiating our way smartly along these routes and asserting our dominion over everything, even over Mother Nature! Ours will be the glory. Blessed is the Smith."