Entire blockades of constructed doubt were to be sliced away by plasma torches wielded by minds confined to the blankness of stagnant visions rising like tendrils of gun-smoke. Blindly sitting at the junction, the soft melt of the glass-lined passageway responded blankly. It was an instanced wall leaning towards arbitration, a gateway unloading blindly the field-text of so many stitched dreams. He had been here before. The roads were unending. And yet it seemed fortuitous to travel this path, despite the balmy preoccupations of those who considered the entire venture unfeasible.