Immersed in a vibrating stopped time, we follow time’s arrow – which since the 1960s has not been sure exactly which way it’s going, vacillating between the moral conservatism of the baby boomers and Gucci consumerist futurology.

Leaving behind its Galilean scrutinizing of the future, an exploration of inaccessible worlds that only Science (fiction) from the heights of its certitude could drive, (science) fiction has slipped into the meanders of our digital society. The false footsteps of Bibendum (the Michelin tire man) in the dirty dust of the moon that day in July 1969 marked an end to our entropic flights of fancy.