Astronomically inclined visions of the apocalypse accumulate in accelerated fashion by way of wayward zombie-sats.
Apocalyptic aspirations aside, take out too many satellites and doom-sayings will be curtailed by network failures and spotty service.
Satellites themselves, perjoratively described as “zombies,” have retrieved a new found freedom as they wander and wonder through the cosmos, dropping their typically designed functions, enjoying the attractions of the terrain.
Towards an orbital urbanism, all manner of space craft now echoing Guy Debord in their satellite footprints amidst heterogeneities and densities of debris
Comets and other old-school astrological signs are obsolesced in this schema, while light pollution alone may condemn all prophecy-mongering astronomy on its own terms.



