“They were real people.” “I know that now!” I wasn’t sure if the anger in her voice was aimed at me or herself. “But we used to see them watching telly or looking at phones or computers. And all I could see were blank screens, snow, static, you know. Broken people poring over broken machines.” Her hands were on her head, clawed, restless, as though she could snatch something away. “And I remember thinking to myself, look at these poor fools. They’re still going about what they think of as normal life. They’re still acting out impulses to consume, consume, consume. Staring at blank televisions,
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