Permaculture One was a zaibatsu on the corner of Saint Mangos and Caravel Lanes, smack dab in the sunken 21st century waterworld that was New Quay, with its antediluvian archipelagos echoing back to the Age of Mass Consumption.
“Keep your eyes on the bloody road,” Kali chastises in a husky, bong-thick Greek contralto as the car swerves back and forth n’ tonka toy tuff across the snaking metal groove move of the tramlines.
