![]() They say: The air is a mix we must keep making. The signals say: A good answer is worth reinventing from scratch, again and again. ![]() Currents rise from the soil-gripping roots, relayed over great distances through fungal synapses linked up in a network the size of the planet. Chemical semaphores home in over the air. Messages hum from out of the bark she leans against. ![]() The fear of suffering that is her birthright-the frantic need to steer-blows away on the wind, and something else wings down to replace it. At midnight, on this hillside, perched in the dark above this city with her pine standing in for a Bo, Mimi gets enlightened. Some slight change in the atmosphere, the humidity, and her mind becomes a greener thing. “She leans back again against the pine’s trunk. "All the things you say people really want? Real life? Soon we won't even remember how it used to go."p229-30” And all this?" He waves, as people do on phones, even knowing Chris can't see him. The world will be a game, with on-screen scores. ![]() ![]() We'll live and trade and make deals and have love affairs, all in symbol space. But soon we'll carry all of that around in our pockets. Forever? Maybe." Neelay stares into his screen, a world coming on hard, where social status will accrue entirely by votes in a space that is at once instant, global, anonymous, virtual, and merciless. They'll still want prestige and social status. “I think that soon enough- not right away, but soon- if software keeps getting better and giving us more room, I think that we'll be able to make ourselves into anything we want. ![]()
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