I was walking down Goswell street, late at night after a drink after work. I was walking and suddenly my attention was captured by the presence of a large black Mercedes coupe, which had drawn up at the lights of the junction with Old street. The Mercedes’ engine was revving loudly, and its sound machine was grinding out solid monstrous bass, and before I was really cognisant of what this noise was, or in fact what the car was, or in fact of anything really except what was in my own head at that moment, which was blankness, at the first instant of my becoming aware of the Mercedes and the noise coming from it I for a second thought it was some huge black ancient animal, roaring near me. After recognising what it was in actuality I became aware also of the fact that I had really been thinking of nothing prior to that point for a few minutes at least, and I had the image of blank whiteness, in fact of a piece of paper, the letter A and the number 4 came into my mind because although this piece of paper was without dimension its blankness seemed commensurate with A4 as that is the most blank type of paper there is, its commonplaceness makes it disappear, there is nothing of the exotic or unusual about it, unlike A6, or A0. I work a lot with A4 paper at my office. After this realisation I looked directly at the Mercedes, and took the detail of it into my conscious mind. Inside the car were three large men, probably in their 30s, possibly middle eastern, wearing suits and sunglasses. The music and the neon that surrounded them and the reflectivity of the car made it all seem so threateningly and glamorously futuristic or at least redolent of some recent but fading idea or ideal or dystopic vision of what the future is or will be. And yet I thought again of the ancient animal. And I thought again of the blank A4 paper with no dimensions. And as I looked ahead of me to my home I realised that while lost in the blankness I had found my way from the drinks after work towards my home. And yet I had also been in the blankness. And I started to imagine something else. A future which was not like this blankness, or like my walk home, or like my office or A4 paper or work drinks.

I veered into the road towards the Mercedes, and leant into its open window, my hands on its cold shining skin, and I looked at the three men and they turned to look at me, and I said “okay, let’s do it”, and they opened the door and I got into the Mercedes.