Spread out on the table in front of us is a flat projection of the inner earth's surface. All the lost continents are there, in silt form, with everything they carried with them as they sank carefully preserved, waiting the day an unhappy child with shovel discovers them by accident between lunch and nap, out in the backyard or by the side of the road. Solemnly, the surface of the inner planet slows, so that we can appreciate and perhaps even memorize the various shapes it shows to us. Can you recognize the place where you used to live?     When the television turned its gaze on me, for a few moments I could see the world as the deity did, divided into different zones of transmission.