But we’re not really
concerned about all that stuff at the moment, because our game is
not taking place during our own cynical, sad age. Where we are right
now there are no cities. Such language as there is consists mainly
of indicative grunts and shouts, not words. Into this world we bring
the Montreal Expos, who speak English or French or Spanish, and who
arrive on the field to find, just past the outfield walls, a stereo
with thirty-foot-high subwoofers and speakers big as California redwoods,
through which we hear Gorguts beginning to do their thing.
|
