In the good old days, the world was filled with different places,
which might as well have been different planets.
People in these different places were filled with wonder,
about the people in other places.
Places they’d heard whispers about around night time fires.
Places they’d seen strange foods and fabrics from at market.
Places whose people and animals mariners had shown them sketches of.
It would take months to reach those places if you ever went,
but most never did, because you probably wouldn’t come back, and home was everything then.
Instead each person maintained a private atlas of quaint surrogate places in their heads.
So wrong, they were right. It was worth never visiting the real place, to keep the make-believe place alive.
People were allowed to have an unabashed pride in their own place and a sense of childish dreamy wonder about the other places.
People had humility. Wonder was a virtue.
Now we are all instantly connected to every other place with wires and no-one cares.
All the unusual things from all the different places have been assimilated or erased; replaced with things which are the same world over.
Everyone knows what Starbucks and McDonalds are.
Everyone knows everything.
Home is nothing.
Everywhere is nothing.
Everyone is noone.
People no longer have humility. Wonder is for fags and noobs.
Speed, ruthlessness, and latest products are the new virtues.
Everyone is so full,
yet everyone is so empty.
And soon, these too will be remembered as the good old days,
by hordes of hairless nanobot-ridden hive-dwelling perma-medicated poor bastards.