Pray, attend to this most comical tragedy! It appears that the grand architects of commerce—those bold gentlemen who believed that piling bricks and mortar into vast 'Shopping Centres' would secure their fortunes for eternity—are in for a rude awakening. Word from the counting-houses suggests that by the year 1827 (or 2027, if one prefers the futuristic calendar), one in every ten of these commercial cathedrals shall either shutter its windows forever or be forced into a most desperate transformation.

Indeed, some five hundred to seven hundred of these establishments are expected to change their nature entirely, while nearly two hundred and fifty shall simply cease to exist. One can almost picture the scene: a bewildered merchant, clutching a useless bill of exchange, staring at a hallway where once the crowds surged, but where now only the dust motes dance in the silence.

And what is the cause of this calamity? Why has the gold ceased to flow into the coffers of these Joint-Stock enterprises? The answer is as simple as it is ironic: the public has developed a distaste for the promenade. Why venture forth into the rain and mud when one may summon goods via the invisible wires of the 'online' ether? The modern consumer, it seems, prefers the comfort of his armchair to the exhausting pursuit of a new waistcoat in a crowded gallery.

Those most at risk are the great regional palaces—monstrous edifices over a decade old, bloated with shops of leather boots and electrical curiosities. The profit on these ventures has plummeted to a miserable six or seven per cent, while the humble, compact neighborhood shop—the true bastion of the honest tradesman—continues to yield a sturdy ten to twelve per cent.

Now, the distressed owners—those poor, trembling rogues—face a choice of Herculean proportions: shall they pour more gold into the sinking ship to 'reconceptualize' their halls, or shall they simply demolish the entire structure and pray that a more profitable venture may rise from the rubble?

As for the common citizen, this musical chairs of commerce promises a most delightful surprise: prices shall soar! For the shopkeeper, finding his footfall diminished, will surely seek to recover his exorbitant rent from the few remaining souls brave enough to enter his doors. Of course, should he raise his prices too high, he shall drive the last of his patrons straight into the arms of the digital marketplaces.

It is a marvel to behold! The era of the great mall is passing. In its place, we are told, shall rise 'food-malls' and 'entertainment centres'—essentially, grand dining halls where one may eat and be amused while forgetting that the traditional art of the merchant is quietly expiring.