Leaving this increasingly Lilliputian world, past the sparrows and malcontent pigeons, their ambition no greater than the immediate and no more inspiring; past flailing kites and the haiku-worty breezes that propel them; past ragged stone peaks and sharpened steel spires, the pinnacle of nature and the as-yet-best of man; past the escaped stuffing of the Earth, as it blots the ground with shifting splotches of shade and fills the sky with Stay Puff splendor; past it all and into a possibility space, where men used to only dream of looking and now do so with Diet Coke in hand; I can't help but wonder: What next?

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