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There is another way to read this, though, which is as a tapped-out super-class attempting to rush its preferred future into existence in the absence of any broader justification or appetite for any of it. It is rich cynics trying to make something lifeless grow in the way that living things do, and lock the dying present they rule in for the foreseeable future by effectively removing everyone from it but them. They are impatient not just because they are high-handed and avaricious, but because they know that the only future they can rule in the way they want is one that is passive, stupid, small and shrinking. There is in this morbid turning inward a latent and terribly sad admission of defeat—it is a future you'd accept only if you had given up on every other richer and more human and more generous one. The only people who've actually chosen it, so far, are the ones insisting that there's no other future to choose.