...raise their chitinous limbs from the dark vacuum of gleyed soil, and into an unpredictably accelerationist milieu of square feet of rentable area. A new continent, so vast and vacant are its many floors of live-work space...

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Upon its ecdysis, the cicada knows that what seem to be inherited memories of the past are revealed as tactics of the future to infiltrate the present. A desacralization, a catastrophe who's cause lies so deep in cellular history, so absolutely detached.

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Many larvae remain trapped beneath the newly laid cement, unable to burrow heavenward. If you put your ear to the pavement, you can still hear them intone... I am Business. I am Profit & Loss. I am Beauty come into the Hell of the Practical."