It's enabler and excuse for every marketer of beastly ideas and prognosticator of petty preferences. It's a course of payment and regulator of information, cash or charge, any currency will do. It's the doors of distraction, detours toward beautiful barriers of freedom, colorfully projected or backlit embellishments of cultural identify. It's an extractor of rents and purveyor of poverty by virtue of exclusive property rights of bipartisan Panglossia. It's the owner of employment per deployment of ownership; the labors of their invisible-to-the-eye outsourced slaves are available at every link. The selective perception through this interface is as settled as the spectacle in front of the face. Especially wherever the breathed air seems clear, innocence of assent will be maintained 'til death, where "What're y'gonna do?" is the understandable if foreseen enquiry whose resolution keeps stumbling over the medium of exchange.