(continued)

But no utopia really is one. That's the first thing to understand about utopias, of course. A utopia is really only something like a selective gaze; a prior agreement, perhaps, that things are or ought to be as rendered clearly in the mind or according to aspects of circumstance.

Real outcomes differ, and they differ both individually and collectively. Not everyone has a voice that can be heard above the clamor and din. Those that make it through might have had some help, maybe, or some luck. You must look around the edges, where things grow a bit wild and where freaks test out new models and configurations.

The bristled border regions, hedgerows and marshlands, as ever, carry the weight of the traffic, winding through turnarounds carrying in supplies from the outlands and fields, and the people who live in the service of others all but in name.