"Now reader", said JIM, "look upon the reality of media! Breathe the free air again!" From the porch upon the top of the high site they could see beyond the stream the green fields of understanding fading into distant grey. Curtains of wind-blown rain were slanting down. The sky above and to the west was still dark with thunder, and lightning far away flickered among the tops of hidden hills. But the wind had shifted to the North, and already the storm that had come out of the West was receding, rolling away southward to the sea. Suddendly through a rent in the clouds behind them a shaft of sun stabbed down. The falling showers gleamed like silver, and far away the river glittered like a shimmering glass.
"It is not so dark here", said the reader.
"No", said JIM. "Nor do media lie so heavily on your shoulders as some would have you think. Cast aside your gadgetry!"
From the reader's hand the heavy mobile phone fell clattering on the slate. He drew himself up, slowly, as a man that is stiff from long bending over some dull toil. Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he looked into the opening sky.
"Dark have been my dreams of late", he said, "but I feel as one new-awakened. I would now that you had come before, JIM. For I fear that already you have come too late, only to see the last days of real life. Not long now shall stand the high hall which the great and simple zen masters of the past built. Designed lifestyles shall devour the high sites. What is to be done?"