The
Internet had changed his brain. Before he read books. Now he only consumed information in bursts and always had a
comment. They were long ones too. They dribbling thick out of his maw, forming a line like expletives scaling a toilet door.
He had
opinions on people he’d never really heard of. He was like a pre-teen just
about joining in the grown-ups’ conversation. Who was that Felix Baumgartner
that jumped out of space? How was it that Greek people went mad? If you laid
out any name or place of any kind he would snap back at you with a quick
soundbite. He had become a sprawling mass of one-liners.
At first it
seemed like happiness but mania prevailed. Being an information-spewing loon left him shunned by his peers. On the high street he accosted strangers to tell them
that Facebook and Youporn has turned his mind to mush. Having been a
book-reader and a dream-chaser these new habits crawled into every open, naïve part
of his brain. Small bursts of unhealth popped out on his cheeks. He talked the ears
off people and never knew they were gone, just went on with his inane “Arab
Spring beat the Phelps off of a Gangnamming election. They voted for the first
time. They sent more bombs per minute than Neil Armstrong. She’s
finally freed. The Burmese lady: Aung San Suu Kyi.”
He had
these moments you see, these moments within the great search when he had to
stop and search for something specific. He was still human after all. He would
still look back over the seats in the cinema to see the lit-up quiet faces of a
whole audience. He would, if he were allowed into cinemas, but he couldn’t,
having been banned for farting knowledge all over the foyer, into the ears of
unsuspecting victims who found that shushing him had no effect. He and his
Internet-addled brain had to be carried out, with words still dropping from his open mouth.
...didn't we agree on no more posts about me?
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