All at once, the minute she gets her bearings, coming direct on the airwaves, is the message itself. It's been, it seems, longer than a year now, but it's the same message as before. Same query from a culturally diverse society dominated by one, same directive on theWorkstation frequency, same we-will-need-an-answer tone that, at least somewhere in the world, sooner or later finds revolution.
Its old persistence, its inquisitive expectation of a simple answer, arrives with so many astonishing, effeminate refinements the moment it arrives. This message--war-torn, ancient, full of the cannibalistics that goes hand in hand with the societies of earth--shows habituation much like the old ability of theHumans to emerge from wrecks of canoes to let it be known to all who will listen that they can become accustomed to anything, in much the same way the consumption of human flesh was the norm for gods descended upon the land of the ancients.
Who created this appetite that has to be fed?
The message, the one lost in cyberspace, has continued, so it seems, to be as natural as the old aggressions and the ancient incests of the older messages. Or so it seems