“yet among the myriad microwaves, the infra-red messages, the gigabytes of ones and zeroes, we find words, byte-sized now, tinier even than science lurking in some vague electricity, but if we listen we can hear the solitary voice of that poet telling us: ‘yesterday this day's madness did prepare; tomorrow's silence, triumph or despair; drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why; drink! for you know not why you go, nor where’.” — Terrence Vance Gilliam, 12 Monkeys, 1995.