I have just woken from a hideous nightmare, the sort of dream that haunts you for days afterwards. I have visited, or been sent to, a terrible world, and to make things worse it had strange parallels to ours, only it was alien and mechanical. I am standing on a wide highway, with robot-like workers rushing in either direction. On either side of this stream miniature versions scurry everywhere, patrolling the margins, ceaselessly on guard. Such is the flow of traffic that the earth has long since been beaten flat; not a shred of vegetation obstructs the road. In one direction the army of helots marches empty-handed, but towards a truly immense forest which I can see only dimly as there is something not quite right with my vision. My sense of smell is, however, overwhelmingly acute, and wave after wave of olfactory messages urge me to obey the twin commands of unceasing work and obedience. Still looking towards the distant forest, I see that from this direction the army returns, each worker scurrying forward with a parcel of food. New olfactory orders are issued, and I am impelled to follow the returning stream. After walking for hours I am driven into a set of huge subterranean chambers. Here the activity is at a frenzy, yet there is also an underlying order. My senses reel: from the ceilings hang huge clumps of what look like some sort of fungus, but it is being tended with the utmost care and attention.