The old domain is decomposing. Balance of powers is disturbed and those that remain, overstrained, don't provide a sense of security anymore. The stale, infirm authority, occupied with derivative issues, can not efficiently comprehend or manage the whole horizon of adverse changes and events. Dynamics are now detrimental and a lag in the reaction time has become distinctly perceptible. All movement now is under a sense of futility – each step, the great leap forward undelivered. The machine has surpassed its self-agency and is slowly giving up ground. Over the vacated landscape looms a phantom of growing danger – is this the promised extinction? A catastrophe orchestrated, prolonged, in an extended state of suspension. Yet in all the uncertainty, one can feel an aura of elation. An antagonist seems present, more sensed than seen – the lame undoer; the liminal undead. Once the Ice 9 – a literary chemical agent, which freezes everything it touches – is unleashed by from its' canister by a person during a half-witted accident, the whole world comes to a halt and time loses its' meaning. The tension in its new intensity becomes extreme. This event was always anticipated, but the banality of its' actual appearance determined its' realization at a wrong time and outside of any control – struck dumb, with arms spread helplessly. The dumbest of outcomes – a decimal that outweighed the whole system. From vantage – dazed, disarmed, accompanied by the soothing cadence of ongoing erosion – I register the appeal of an accelerating decline. Termini is the finals – an image of vanishing and a field being emptied. It is a few minutes of the end credits – a moment of leaving fiction, when attention adapts anew. The series depicts a futuristic emptiness, heralded as inescapable, on the threshold of the world after man – during a decline, that occurs in peace, as the world turns into a museum. A spectacular final note – the anti-climax.