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... anyone who has lost a hand to a flywheel or spindle or had a finger severed by shears, grinders or slitters knows – since the beginning of this industrial age – we have built a world where we are not on top of the food chain, a world where spinning, pinching, crushing machines are hungry for human flesh, a world where tigers and great white sharks are endangered but careening metal boxes, powered by thousands of barely controlled explosions, criss cross our cities, passing so close we feel buffeted by their turbulence and we tempt these machines continually, teasing them like teenage girls, till we grow so accustomed to the attention we lower our guard and a machine reaches out, grabs hold of us and has its savage way, leaving splintered bone and severed arteries in its wake while as bystanders we look upon the gory scene surprised and a little hurt, as if our favorite cousin just demolished a treasured family heirloom and we assure our careful selves that we would never be so foolish as to place our own bodies in harm's way ...