This world is science fiction, the fractal edge of the universe in the process of expansion, chaos meeting the void, waves crashing on the beach, the fragile border area between existence and non-existence. This is Interzone, the international zone, the chaotic border where languages fall flat and desires become erect. Modern standard Pidgin English is the lingua franca according to the fashions of the day, Chinese language torture, the tongue of half-baked smiles and crocodile tears. This is science fiction; this is World War III; this is reality. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have no idea where I am. I search an empty mind for the most recent memory, any memory, anything. What’s a computer without an operating system? Insert boot disk. Finally a reference point emerges and the rest can be extrapolated. Sometimes I wonder if a different memory had popped up, then maybe the entire extrapolated world would be different. Is history constantly shifting its point of reference? IS there such a thing as objective reality?