So McCollum continues his endless objects, repeating one singular idea. 31 billion hopeless object, higher than peak population, the good schoolboy bringing enough to share, no two snowflakes alike.
A strange market, even distribution amongst population and they would be valueless, without rarity in their uniqueness, but a collector’s majority stake, hoarding wealth like diamonds, irradiating gold, that old Dr.No trick, a governed population, produces power. McCollum still playing in the 1980’s 8bits when today whole new versions of crypto-wealth premised on staggering permutations of bits, 128, and the mining of time in numbers larger than the mass of a universe. This looks comparatively Kinkade quaint. A cold humanism, depressing individuality. The endgame summated in the center of far sides's black/white sea innumerate, an individual, a penguin, singing, “I gotta be me, Oh I just gotta be me.”
