they
I had a dream that "they" installed a wall at the end of the city. The wall had millions of blinking iPhone chargers built into it. On the other side was darkness, and there was no way to go there. People seemed content that they had a place to charge their phones, even if they could never leave the city. I was supposed to go somewhere to deliver a package but I couldn't find the number of the house. "They" had moved the buildings. It appeared that the number 200 didn't exist. "They" should stop making movies like Kronenberg's "The Shrouds," because the name of the film maker sounds like a city, and the square electronic graves are pretty creepy. The dialogue was spoken by zombies to no one in particular, only seemingly to one another, and mostly into mobile phones and screens. There was not much anxiety in my dream or in the film, thanks to the Xanax I took to get to sleep. The Defense Department is now the Department of War, so I have no idea what's on the other side of the phone charger wall. Darkness, yes, but only if we don't go there. If we are good boys and girls and stay close to our phones, take our Xanax and have no desire to leave the city, we can get close to annihilation without anxiety.
your essay is so comforting and yet so ironic in tone. I don't know why but this monolith concrete "wall" that arose within a concrete patch of concrete near the college tennis courts came to mind when reading it. We used to hit a variety of balls against it for fun and "tennis practice". Many balls were lost on the roofs of other college buildings. My memory is of my mom and sister beside the effing wall insisting that I work on my backhand. I didn't like to play tennis at all. The outdoor tennis season's weather was very hot and humid. I was always in a cloud/hyper mood from the extra-strong benadryl and steroids to calm asthma that I was taking way back in the day when the doses were too high for words. I don't mind watching tennis if Federer or Agassi or Williams are on the court. But they don't play anymore.My home care workers always need to charge their phone and I have only one place to do it, on my bed stand which is always a mess of books and papers. If there was such a wall as you describe, there would be a horde of people wanting to take advantage of its power.
Doctors will not prescribe Xanax for me anymore. whatever!!! All the alternative meds suck!
precious Xanax, which I nicknamed Xanadu, is lost and gone forever dreadful sorry jittermind.