The Future Is Not Google-able.

Laney Had Recently Noticed That The Only People Who Had Titles That Clearly Described Their Jobs Had Jobs He Wouldn't Have Wanted.

Five Hours' New York Jet Lag And Cayce Pollard Wakes In Camden Town To The Dire And Ever-circling Wolves Of Disrupted Circadian Rhythm.

Cyberspace Is Where You Are When You're On The Telephone.

Lost, So Small Amid That Dark, Hands Grown Cold, Body Image Fading Down Corridors Of Television Sky.

To Some Extent I'm Guilty Of Wishful Thinking. The Absence Of The Interstitial I Find Unbearable.