Prelude to the End

It is evening. The infant genius (Kolya) has wandered off (as he is prone to) and as he meanders along the street he is counting. In fifty-two of the houses people are watching television, in twenty they are sat at computers (his rough estimate is that sixteen of these are laptops or large tablets). One couple, who have neglected to close their curtains, are engaged in an activity without clothes which Kolya is too young to understand. Thirty curtains have been drawn shut. At number 104 there is an argument, and next door a bearded man called Santos is playing the drums. And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps of withered leaves about his feet. It is time.