You live on a farm now, working from home or out in the field. It may look like a city, but the space you occupy and do not own is neatly arranged in a global grid of labour-intensive units whose dominant features are subsistence farming and tributary ritualistic activities – all quite medieval.
Your attention and your ideas are monetized and sold off in auctions you are unable to influence or petition. The land, with its atoms and its pixels, belongs to many lords. Your loyalty is required by a few of them and increasingly negotiated among the rest, in a convoluted web of competing jurisdictions. In some parts of the world, you and yours fall prey to the effects of this rivalry and must bear the brunt of asymmetrical warfare, corrupt governance, hopeless debates.
In this dire state of affairs, the long arm of the law seems at times to bend inwards, crooked and self-serving. Other times it strikes with unspeakable force, random and incomprehensible. And so your path on this earth is divided between the two worlds: the lawless and the arbitrary, the archaic and the unseen, the peasantry and the citizenship.