“The amount of information it took the people of the Middle Ages to comprehend their world and its beyonds is a speck in the amount of information a modern person must first comprehend.  The people of the next Age will be information itself.”  This pretty much quotes how his professor in communication studies had started his first class of the semester.  The professor’s literal words stuck with him for so many days that he began to sense in them an omen, a voice showing him how he could beat everyone to the future by starting now to embody information itself.  In what felt to him to be his first adult decision, he vowed to speak only information, even if asked about his feelings.  It was the respectful way for people to be with each other.  No surprises, no issues of mistrust, and a deeper level of engagement.  Information should never be sullied by dis-information, even mis-information.  Before long, he had drawn himself a manifesto as unconventional as pioneers are prone to.  Visually, it retained its bullet-point identity, but now lined them all into a circle that became the outer boundary of all knowable information.  Years later, after graduation, and by then a Policy Information Specialist, he had a dream.  He was airborne in a sea of information, so much of it, and so exact, that he felt himself within a presence which it was not possible for all that information to contain.  That’s when he woke up.