From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The flickering black-and-white glow of the television is the only thing cutting through the humid summer dark, illuminating the terrifying headlines about the Moon Lander descending toward the craters. My nerves are frayed raw; between the surging cost of a loaf of bread and the constant shadow of the draft, this whole "flower power" era feels more like a fever dream than a revolution. I stare at the news tickers mentioning new-fangled things like UNIX and ARPANET, wondering if these unseen machines will finally track us all down while those astronauts drift into the void. It is a gnarly sight—men walking on dust while the streets back home are still burning with unrest.