Matching the line of its facets are the horizontals of some Cain language, drifting in a soft focus. The surface of corn, twisting in growth and inheritance, across an entire field, all the corn see at once on one screen, which begins to talk and whine about modern farming. Someone in the pay of the farmer sprayed the field yesterday, and everyone in the corn rows is feeling bad about the dead insects, and generally woozy from the psychotropic effects of the carcinogens.

The oscillation of the bands increases in frequency. Slight shadows from an impossible light pass across the surface of these underlife waves.