It's a undead, gasping dystopian future that lives in our present world.
It has a fantastic marketing department.
And right in the USA.
You want to know the end state of the human economic machine? It's a plane trip away. You might even be convinced you're having fun doing it.
It's Las Vegas. The living, breathing Negative Sum Game, sucking life and energy from the world.
Of course in the purely mathematical sense, you have the raison d'etre of Las Vegas... the embodiment of the negative sum game... all gambling games of the flashing neon casinos are guaranteed to the house. You'll win some, but eventually you'll lose more.
But there is also the black hole of economic strength that Las Vegas feeds upon, sucking up the energy and human production extracted from resource exploitation globally, concentrated in the rich, who then travel to Las Vegas to spectacularly, conspicuously, and vapidly expend it in the barren sands of Nevada.
Las Vegas itself rises from the desert, and sucks in ungodly amounts of increasingly precious freshwater to create false visions of lush paradise. Even high up in the hotel towers, a wall of concrete mostly obscures the surrounding arid terrain. Energy burns lighting the city day and night, as the cogs of the industrial gambling machinery lubricate themselves on the blood and sweat of millions.
The economic model of Vegas is as a millenium ago, or perhaps in a millenium as the resource riches of the twentieth century fade from memory. An entire city dedicated to the pursuit of the entertainment of the top 1%, or those pretending to do so for a very short period of time, supported by hundreds of thousands of servants bussed in day and night.
So sinister is the subtle dessication of the soul Vegas imposes upon its visitors.
At its heart the amusement offerings of Vegas lull you into inactivity. Sit here, and gamble. Sit here, behold a glittering show. Sit here, and eat this dinner. Sit here, and gamble some more. Sit here, and inebriate. Sit here, by the pool. Sit here, to be seen. Sit here, and be writhed upon.
Okay, we'll let you walk a bit, if you want to shop.
Whatever you wish, do not wish for activity. It's truly a gilded prison, this place, with no real escapes. You are surrounded on all sides by a wasteland of concrete. That is surrounded by a wasteland of desert. The monorail only monotonously moves to another carbon copy of a casino.
No forests, no rivers, no fields. No roads to ride, no trails to hike or run, no bodies of water to swim or surf. No wildlife. No plant life.
Are you not entertained?
It has a fantastic marketing department.
And right in the USA.
You want to know the end state of the human economic machine? It's a plane trip away. You might even be convinced you're having fun doing it.
It's Las Vegas. The living, breathing Negative Sum Game, sucking life and energy from the world.
Of course in the purely mathematical sense, you have the raison d'etre of Las Vegas... the embodiment of the negative sum game... all gambling games of the flashing neon casinos are guaranteed to the house. You'll win some, but eventually you'll lose more.
But there is also the black hole of economic strength that Las Vegas feeds upon, sucking up the energy and human production extracted from resource exploitation globally, concentrated in the rich, who then travel to Las Vegas to spectacularly, conspicuously, and vapidly expend it in the barren sands of Nevada.
Las Vegas itself rises from the desert, and sucks in ungodly amounts of increasingly precious freshwater to create false visions of lush paradise. Even high up in the hotel towers, a wall of concrete mostly obscures the surrounding arid terrain. Energy burns lighting the city day and night, as the cogs of the industrial gambling machinery lubricate themselves on the blood and sweat of millions.
The economic model of Vegas is as a millenium ago, or perhaps in a millenium as the resource riches of the twentieth century fade from memory. An entire city dedicated to the pursuit of the entertainment of the top 1%, or those pretending to do so for a very short period of time, supported by hundreds of thousands of servants bussed in day and night.
So sinister is the subtle dessication of the soul Vegas imposes upon its visitors.
At its heart the amusement offerings of Vegas lull you into inactivity. Sit here, and gamble. Sit here, behold a glittering show. Sit here, and eat this dinner. Sit here, and gamble some more. Sit here, and inebriate. Sit here, by the pool. Sit here, to be seen. Sit here, and be writhed upon.
Okay, we'll let you walk a bit, if you want to shop.
Whatever you wish, do not wish for activity. It's truly a gilded prison, this place, with no real escapes. You are surrounded on all sides by a wasteland of concrete. That is surrounded by a wasteland of desert. The monorail only monotonously moves to another carbon copy of a casino.
No forests, no rivers, no fields. No roads to ride, no trails to hike or run, no bodies of water to swim or surf. No wildlife. No plant life.
Are you not entertained?
