When the toxins of usury have thoroughly poisoned the streams of human commerce and sundered all ties of community, so that the delusion of separateness spreads like a blanket of fog over consciousness, then the desolate day of the Hollow Man will dawn. Here at last is the man who will stare vacuously at the glittering idols of Falsehood and blink, accepting as valid and valuable only the static surfaces of things, hearing only the churning of money replicating itself, virus-like. Here at last is the vortex sucking in the draft of Voidness that disperses the collective Soul and severs every cord of empathy that connects man to his brother. Then at last the vacuity of your inner World, Nero, will expand to take in the entire planet - a World of empty shells, never touching anything Real, only the tokens of illusory wealth, created out of Nothing and bound to return to Nothing. Then, indeed, they will dance like straw-men to your tune.