Children of the New World Page 5

  There’s a story I would like to tell to my children. In this story a boy meets a girl and they fall in love. They both have good jobs and enough money to buy a nice house with acres of land. There are old trees on their land—apples and pears, cherries and plums, blueberry bushes and grapevines. In the late fall, the grass gets sticky with the pulp of fallen fruit, and bees buzz amid the fermenting cores. The family makes pies, and the children’s fingers get stained from the blueberries, a light purple hue that remains even after their baths that night. In this home the parents love each other. Sometimes the children see their parents kiss and they feel embarrassed. They are good children, healthy and happy. They ride bicycles with other kids; they grow up, fall in love, and have children of their own who they bring back to the land. And at night, when the moon rises full above their home, the family goes to sleep to the sound of crickets chirping in the high grass.

  In this story there is no car pulling into the driveway at 4 A.M., there is no father stumbling to the door as he struggles to find his keys. In this story, when the father goes into his son’s room to make sure he’s sleeping, he kisses the small boy on his forehead and tucks the blankets up beneath his son’s chin, never considering, not even for a moment, rolling the blankets down past the boy’s small chest, which rises and falls with every breath, where deep inside there’s a heart that loves his father and trusts he will protect him against the monsters of this world.

  EXCERPTS FROM

  The New World Authorized Dictionary

  brainflea n. Useless data sent via Brain/Web interface, primarily concerned with the dissemination of product information.

  2026 Oct 12 Glade Dunning, Cyberspeak [posting on think-the-stream], http://www.thinkthestream.com/blog/2026/10/12: Braintwitters started arriving at Podmarket Promos on Saturday afternoon. I was the first to get a complaint, but we were all getting them soon enough. Seemed our latest brainflea had sunk in its teeth and wasn’t letting go—a particularly viral promo Quimbly dreamed up for BellyBurners that projected itself into the upper right occipital quadrant beneath the eyelid, making it distracting to anyone’s vision and ensuring there was no way you were going to blink that one out of your eye.

  2027 Feb 1 javinflav on Scooberwatch, http://scooberwatch.com/2027/brainflea-promoz-newzshizzle/#comment-19837: Even with the case of EDs [Extra-invasive Data] like what Podmarket is putting out, the problem with brainfleas is that they’re essentially just a retinal base without any deeper ocular invasiveness. If brainfleas can’t create a deeper neural probe to leave some sort of ocular trace, you’re just going to have people dumping these QBFs [Quick BrainFiles] from their memory (unlike Nerve-Ending-Strings that cling to spinal-receptors, check out Wildgirlz NES#1a-5). That’s a lot of eye-space lost for a single brainflea getting squashed in a blink.

  mush v. [“Just Mush the Bitch,” song by American musician, G-Spot] 1. Heterosexual intercourse wherein the female has her face pressed firmly against a surface (usually floor) in a forceful manner.

  2023 Feb 1 G-Spot, http://www.songlyrics/mushthebitch_0985.php: If your girl is acting the slut, just mush the bitch, just mush the bitch / and if the young thing starts acting up, just mush that shit, yeah, mush that shit / I want to see those panties drop / I want to see that cherry pop / as I mush your shit, yeah, mush that shit.

  2023 Feb 24 Late Night with Dymon Shields (transcript): Dymon Shields: “G-Spot, I think we all want to know, just what is mushing?” G-Spot: “Psh, I’ll mush you right now [laughter]. Serious? Well, mushing is when you take your girl and put her face down, you know, against the carpeting or her mom’s ratty old bathroom tiles. You know you’ve been mushing when you can count the tiles on her face when she gets up [laughter].”

  2023 March 14 Tommy Tanzotti, MTV Spring Break Unchained with Tommy Tanzotti (transcript): “Wassup-wassup? Ohhhh yeah, we here chillin’ with the hottest females in Abu Dhabi. Yo, what’s your name?” / “Sarah.” / “And where you from?” / “I’m from Ohio. I go to Oberlin.” / “I bet you do a lot of mushing at Oberlin.” / “I sure do.” / “Why don’t you put your face on the ground and show us how you mush it. Yeah, that’s it. Mush it, baby, mush it.”

  2. To embarrass someone publicly through domination or degradation, often in business.

  2024 June 18 Larry Spence, Business Week: “When it comes to foreclosing, a lot of us will refer to it as mushing. At the office it’s not difficult to hear a quote like, ‘You should’ve seen how I mushed the Johnsons today, had the husband face down, wife crying.’”

  orange blossom, orange-blossom n. [THRRADS 4.b. “A special-purpose high-explosive bomb of incredible damage.” 2024] Large and powerful conventional bomb dropped from VICA [VirtuCube-Interactive-Controlled Aircraft].

  2025 Oct 15 Tim Penicaud, Military Journal VII, http://globalsecurity.org/military/mil-0475-usmco.html, TACTICAL SUPPORT FOR AREA “PRAYING MANTIS”: The KLMT-8 bomb, which scorches targets with a burst of white phosphorous powder burning at 6700C, was released for use against Turkey. The bomb, also known as an orange-blossom, is able to “liquidate largely populated areas.” From an aerial view, each bomb creates a large white starlike pattern that resembles the flower.

  2026 Aug 1 Sgt. Nicholas Wobido, ArmySpeak: “You try telling my guys we’re in a financial squeeze. Men who served with me were torched by orange-blossoms, and we’re getting this for our service? I don’t know what Washington’s thinking, but it’s damn clear we’ve been cut off from medical coverage thanks to it [the Wartime Recuperation Act].”

  2026 Oct 17 Tyler Studds, Entertainment Weekly: Filming of the comedy, Duty Calls, came to an unexpected halt in the capital city of Ankara yesterday when an orange-blossom exploded a little too close for comfort. The reverberations ruffled even the coolheaded indie director, who stood in cargo shorts while dialing in a call to local officials. “Sometimes you just hope they remember we’re filming here,” he commented to reporters.

  tog, TOG, togging [therapy on the go, therapy+jog] v. also n. The practice of relying upon ITPs (Inner-Ear Therapy Programs) while in a public space, often in the company of others or during social interaction (eating, walking, while in conversation).

  2028 March 20 Abercrombie Jones, Modern Business: Inner-Ear and AT&T’s recent merger means good news for stockholders and good news for customers. Reports show a 12 percent increase in Inner-Ear surgery since the merger went public, and already airports and restaurants are filled with the sound of patrons togging aloud in between IT support and mojitos. Yet, while many users attest to the value of togging, continual wireless therapy does not necessarily equate with balanced lives. Dr. Peter Christoff, Professor of Social-Cybernetics at Johns Hopkins, notes, “A lot of togging can actually lead to a form of social myopia. We’ve seen these people: the mother togging on parenting while her children are crying, the date who excuses himself to tog romance tips. I think we’re going to see an overall increase of chronic togging in the near future.”

  togger n. A person who relies upon ITPs while in public.

  2028 May 1 Ms. Kathy McGee, Kathy’sFunPage, http://www.kathysfunpage.com/21994: Well, I’m sure all of you are as fed up as me with togging. Yesterday, once again (!), I almost flirted with one of these toggers—a real cutie, too, in a Sacchi & Tucchi Kevlar helmet. I heard him say, “I have a lot of trouble knowing how to speak to women.” So I turned to him and said, “Why don’t you just say hello,” but he wasn’t paying any attention to me; togging away as usual. Ugh! When are we going to get some men who don’t need therapy 24/7!?

  2028 Dec 20 Aquiles LaGrave, The Guardian (London): Good news for anyone suffering from togging-fatigue: the latest is www.toggerhealing.com, an online social network where chronic toggers can connect with other toggers to receive therapeutic support from a virtual togging community.

  urban outfitting v. To use discarded materials in order to increase the safety of a military uniform (see Trash-Fitting “ATNW” AS 80[2025]: 311-12)

  2025 Nov 1 Mitsubishi Mikado, T
he Philadelphia Reporter: Republican Senator Ed Brendell voiced his objection to the Geary Bill, stating that the $187 million proposed for phosphorous-protective clothing would be better used on an increase of orange-blossoms and other military equipment. “There’s no need to upgrade protective equipment,” Brendell said. “These guys [soldiers] know how to use the materials they’ve got to protect themselves. They call it urban outfitting.”

  2026 Jan 4 Obituaries, Columbus Informer: The family of Sgt. David Brown, 19, of Gahanna, learned he was killed Wednesday when an undetonated orange-blossom was used against U.S. forces outside of Istanbul. His parents claim the death could have been prevented. “You can’t expect urban outfitting to protect our children against the type of bombs they’re using over there,” his father said.

  2. n. Civilian clothing that has been altered by adding protective equipment used by police or military.

  2026 May 4 HipHopJunkyz: G-Spot most surely got the most style—what with his latest urban outfitting. Those of you who caught his DeathStarGangsta tour saw him wearing his M.O.L.L.E. II Bulletproof Carrier Vest and Green Phantom Combat goggles (available at www.downtoparty.com).

  2026 August 14 Sandy Sheener, V Women’s Style: Sacchi & Tucchi released its new fall line of Urban Outfitting in Copenhagen during last month’s fashion week. Bianca wore a Remploy Textile full NBC bodysuit with respirator and gloves, while Kate Swiss wowed the crowd, showing off S&T’s latest White Phosphorous line.

  wink, winking, Wink v. [from Winker: social-networking Brain/Web interface site created in 2027 by MIT student Jeremiah Jones, originally called Socialwinker] To include or exclude people in your field of vision or hearing by use of Winker’s Blue-Eye® technology.

  2027 Dec 1 Axe Brockman, StudentSpeak, Harvard University Press: “We use it at parties, you know, to find out where our friends be at. You turn on Winker and suddenly everyone shuts up and disappears so I can hear my bros.” Like many students across American campuses, Zack has been winking-in people who share his interests. “It’s a good way to meet people,” he says. “Like, let’s say I want to meet a girl that likes to mush—bam—as long as she put that in her profile, I see her.” While critics claim winking is an antisocial act, isolating users into a narrow range of preferences, many students believe it helps them save time and emotional space, allowing them to wink people out of their vision who otherwise would’ve taken weeks to reveal their incompatibility. Traci Hall says it has helped her eliminate unwanted ogling. “A lot of guys check me out and, before Winker, I’d have to walk to class and see every guy looking at me. Now I just wink in the type of guy I want, and all the others become blur-bodies.”

  2028 Nov 23 Joseph Yoon, Atlanta Constitution 1M (LexisNexis): Intended for sex offenders, Winker’s use of red-lining anyone with a criminal record raises a number of ethical issues. Take the case of Joshua Martin: his misdemeanor for ripping Inner-Ear downloads earned him four years as a red-body. “Anyone who’s winking sees my red-body and crosses the street,” Martin reports. He claims he lives in virtual isolation thanks to Winker.

  WMDMA n. [after WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction) + MDMA (see Ecstasy)]: Methamphetamines shaped like or named after weapons of mass destruction.

  2028 Nov 1 Jonathan Wolfe, The Oregonian [Portland, OR]: This week’s police raid on a Burnside Avenue apartment turned up a collection of KLMT-8 bomb-shaped ecstasy pills. In addition there were over one hundred Baggies of meth labeled White Phosphorous. “There’s only so much you can do,” said Sergeant Newman. “We can destroy this stuff, but there are plenty of other labs out there and a growing demand from elementary school kids on up.” The drugs, known as WMDMA, have become common among Virtual Reality Raves, resulting in the recent deaths of Seattle partygoers who were online raving alone in their homes. Despite the rising toll of WMDMA-related deaths, Bausch & Cartz Pharmaceuticals believes the increase of amphetamine-based drugs reveals a vital need for stronger FDA-approved ADHD medication for preteens and young adults.

  MOKSHA

  I.

  RUMOR WAS YOU could still find enlightenment in Nepal, and for cheap. There were back rooms down the spiderwebbed streets of Kathmandu where they wired you in, kicked on the generator, and sent data flowing through your brain for fifteen thousand rupees a session. It was true, Jeff from the co-op had assured Abe, though passport control could be a bitch when you returned to the States.

  “They pulled my buddy when we hit Newark,” Jeff had said, sipping maté from a gourd. “But he was showing. His third eye was completely open and he wanted to hug everyone. Just think about porn and you’ll be fine.” Jeff had handed Abe a crinkled business card. Namaste Imports. “Go to this place.”

  So Abe had saved his money, bought the ticket, and traveled the endless hours, numbed by bad sleep and bland airline food, to find himself in Kathmandu. Finding Namaste Imports, however, had proved impossible. The streets had no names and, looking up, all Abe saw was a tangle of electrical wires and lights blinking on in the dusk. Around him, masses of tourists, heavy with backpacks and vacant looks, milled about. And amid all this churned a perpetual stream of cars and mopeds, nudging their way around pedestrians, honking, yelling out of windows, and raising endless dust. It all seemed far from enlightenment.

  By ten that night, the shops had shut down. Abe wandered back to his hotel to the sound of Beatles cover bands filtering down from terrace cafés. A couple skinny Nepali teens emerged from the darkness. “Hash, Pollen, Sex?” they asked, but when Abe asked for Moksha, they turned squirrelly and retreated back into the doorways. So Abe returned to his hotel room, stretched out on his bed, and wondered if it was all bullshit, and Jeff had sent him on a fool’s errand that’d cost him his savings.

  Moksha, it turned out, wasn’t bullshit. It’d just gone into hiding ever since the twenties when the U.S. cracked down on Nepali distribution. There had been nonstop busts at yoga studios and health spas in the U.S. An oxygen bar in Sedona had been found with makeshift crown plates hooked up to an old Sega Genesis console. The CIA had confiscated the equipment and sentenced the owners, a gray-haired, dreadlocked couple, to life. By the time Abe was in high school, and just starting to get interested in experimenting with enlightenment, it was impossible to find. The U.S. government had strong-armed Eastern religions. Transcendental meditation classes were raided, tai chi groups disappeared from the parks, and churches began burning esoteric Buddhist texts. The closest Abe had come to scoring any enlightenment was when some seniors, troubled kids with a penchant for Lao-Tzu, had cannibalized an old iMac and built a crown plate out of tinfoil. Abe had placed the foil cap on his head and closed his eyes.

  For a moment, sitting in the kid’s garage on a nylon beach chair, Abe had thought he felt something. He sensed a dull light behind his eyes, fuzzy and warm, and his heartbeat expanded. The sound of the air-conditioning unit kicking on droned into a melody, and he’d had a vision of his mother asking him, as though he were still a child, if he wanted her to pack him a lunch. Light streamed through the window over the kitchen sink, and for a split second he saw her sadness. Then something in the makeshift machine popped, sending a curl of plastic smoke into the air. The seniors had yelled shit and poured their Pepsi on the electrical fire, and Abe found himself back in the dank, oil-stained garage, as unenlightened as he’d ever been.

  Later that night, in the safety of his room, Abe thought of how stupid he’d been. The DEA had scanners to pick up the bioenergetic emissions of neighborhoods. He’d risked his freedom for a split-second vision of his mother in the kitchen. And so he’d shaken his head, looked at his psychedelic black-light poster of the Dalai Lama, and told himself he was a fucking idiot.

  And yet, here he was in Nepal, having gambled everything on this trip, approaching yet another tourist shop to ask for Moksha. The store was crouched down a narrow side street behind Durbar Square, far from the streets of Thamel, where shops sold colorful yak scarves and were filled with desperate tourists looking for cheap prayer flags.
There the shopkeepers all shook their heads when Abe asked for Moksha, telling him to buy a thangka painting instead. But here, amid the collapsing buildings, where the kids played on piles of rubble and bricks, was a small storefront. An old woman sat on a stool, barely visible amid the stitched bags and prayer bowls.

  “Namaste,” Abe said, and she answered by putting her palms together. “Moksha?” he asked.

  She looked at him, her eyes silver between the lids. For a long time she said nothing, and Abe was about to give up when she asked, “How long you stay in Nepal?”

  “Three weeks.” That was as long as he’d given himself to find enlightenment.

  “Why you look for Moksha?”

  It was the first time he’d been asked directly, and Abe realized he had no real answer. She looked like she was about to shoo him away, so he settled on, “You can’t get it in America.”

  She looked at him again and then closed her eyes. “Twenty-five thousand.”

  Jeff from the co-op had prepared him for the haggling, which wasn’t simply expected but a kind of courtesy here. “Fifteen.”

  The old woman shook her head. “For fifteen you get peaceful insight instead.”