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 Simulation: A Distorted Map "Abstraction today is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal." The Empire has convinced itself that its own Lies are true. It can no longer see without its prosthetic eyes; its slow mind churns behind a wall of ever-thickening abstraction. The Imperial Mandarins labor to make the Real resemble a Simulation that has no frame of reference. The Myths of the Empire are empty: a peek behind the curtain reveals no Wizard or Deus ex Machina, but a drawing of an empty chair. The signifier and the signified have gone their seperate ways; words and meanings are taken apart and put back together according to the Whim and Interests of Power. The TAZ finds a hiding place beneath the wrinkles of the Distorted Map. By wrapping itself in the real, the TAZ becomes invisible to eyes long blinded by Simulation. By the time the Agents of Empire recalibrate their atrophied sensory apparatus in an attempt to locate and co-opt the TAZ, it has vanished, leaving only a few seeds and empty glasses behind. The TAZ shakes off the plastic residue of Simulation and heads for the hills. It uses the newspaper to start a bonfire and places ceremonial candles in the shattered picture tubes of televisions. It strips off synthetic clothing and artificial time and howls naked beneath the full moon. The TAZ ignores the attempted courtship of Simulation and uses the gifts of Civilization for its own purposes.
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