Let us consider a sad illumination. The Manhattan office worker moves througha clutter of factory-made, anonymous furniture to a plastic, impersonal kitchen, tobreakfast on canned, packaged anonymous food-fuel; dresses hirself in theanonymous-city-dweller costume, travels through dark tunnels of sooty metal andgray concrete to a dark metal room, foul with polluted air. All day s/he deals withsymbols that have no relevance to hir divine possibilities. This person issurrounded by the dreary, impersonal, assembly-line, mass-produced, anonymousenvironment of an automated robot, which perfectly mirrors hir “turned off’awareness.
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