Cynicism and opportunism, that's where it's ended up, W. says. We're all cynical, and we're all opportunists.
The rules of the game, which we're all obliged to play, are artificial. Nothing means anything – we all know that. The rules themselves are without meaning. But we must play, and that is our cynicism. We play as we are played, dice thrown across the universe …
We're players, W. says. We have to play. Flexibility, transferable skills … That we can adapt is all. That we can land right side up when we're thrown across the universe …
He's being thrown, W. says. They're about to throw him somewhere else, W. says, away from his city. He's losing his city, says W. He's losing everything.
And when he comes too, back broken, facing the sky without stars? When he awakens into a night without dreams, without rest? He'll smile and thank them all, W. says. He'll smile and thank them for ruining his life.
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