Cross My Palm With Silver

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Making predictions is difficult. Particularly about the future.

Of course, it sort of is my stock in trade as a science fiction writer. Kind of. Almost. Sideways, if you look at it with an eye half closed, so it doesn’t bite you (which is what you should do to 2024, btw. After the last four years? I ain’t trust it an inch.)

I mean, unless you assume G-d or whatever it is you, personally, calls whoever keeps this thing cranking (no, please. Sp...