The widespread domestication of certain technologies has made a class of fiction plots, for example those that were premised on the divergent misunderstandings of characters who were physically separated, close to obsolete. In the same way access to social intelligence (that is, knowledge) previously thought to be inaccessible in principle could lead to a restructuring of emotions, by way of the stories that they are embedded in. Are we then in sight of the long-sought cure for love? Like our fiction plots, love seems to have an essential relation to stories, indeterminately generating and being generated by them. Any augmentation of perspectives, of the very principle generating perspectives, ought to have a significant effect on anything downstream of narrativity. The cure for love would doubtless take the form of a hunting down of blind spots, or better still of a ruthless everting, an illumination, of dark places so that the question of blind spots could no longer arise. Whatever is unknown in the other passes into you and your love for them melts into your love for yourself. Every new twist in the culture seems to be aimed at the burning heart of the previous formation. It is intent on rendering all received love stories caduc, unrepeatable, ineffectual, merely entertaining. But then by some unforeseen turn - the action of the blind-spot - the old stories are revealed as the truth of the new stories. But the melting away of blind-spots goes on, only much more slowly than you think. The drives are gradually unmasked, they succumb to objectification, to commodification. The subject precesses.