Oh. Positively buoyant. And his invisibility cloak — SO outdated. They also magnetise all the bad ones into harmless lightweight compost for urban gardens, deserts etc. His prototype Airfracker, once revolutionary in its application of nano-mining technology to the micro-subdivision of rentable London space, seems quaint enough to be in the Bletchley Park museum. WEDNESDAY Packing for an overnighter at Beansy’s. Apparently he wants my view on something. Sudden sense of foreboding. That’ll be the ‘neogen’ says Beansy casually, 3D-synthesising some breakfast. When any critic had the presence of mind to point out that plenty of things ending in ‘ide’ were actually beneficial, like the countryside, Beansy would simply give them a sarcastic look, say ‘oh REALLY?’ and somehow win the argument. Neogen can carry electrical charge, radio waves and ‘pop-up physics’, so your personal Wi-Fi cone can be a soundproof listening booth, an umbrella and, at a push, temporary affordable housing. In it, he cheerfully analyses how we’re killing ourselves with everything ending in ‘ide’: the carbons monoxide and dioxide, pesticide, even stuff he made up that sounded plausible eg ‘bacterial genocide’. A small fortune favours the brave, and Beansy was clever enough two years ago to write a dystopian non-fiction blockbuster called Every Ide Is A Suicide. All I can do is look on in awe, and wonder how to monetise something in my direction.SATURDAY Head home with a sample of self-replicating neogen, my head full of clarity and free Wi-Fi.SUNDAY Release the neogen. I’m incredibly happy for the fat jammy bastard. Beansy’s parallel universe transporter now looks about as fresh as the iPhone 4. ‘Whoa, this is beyond awesome. There’s a party in the evening, the smart London crowd getting wired and wankered with Beansy’s latest invention, the Vodcainator, a metered-dose inhaler that delivers ‘aerosolised party all sorts’. It’s like I won a goldfish at the fair and slipped it out of its plastic bag into the garden pond … ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS NEOGEN, BEANSY?’An hour later, I’m digesting my 3D breakfast and the significance of Beansy’s latest caper. His indoor heated pool probably, the insufferable git, good luck to him, as I say.THURSDAY Gone are the days of Beansy’s ramshackle old lab in that shitty Croydon lock-up. Amazing, the way he just glides through every stretch of Austerity’s Sargasso Sea like an oiled yacht.Still, that’s the thing about nanofuturology. I’ve been introducing it gradually into my respiratory experience. WHAT? ‘Tune out, turn up, drop in!’ he says, in his weird Scallyfornian accent.TUESDAY Beansy’s steepling rise from obscure biotech miniaturist to best-selling author is richly deserved. Also a bit creepy, to be honest.Anyway, it’s great to catch up. My God, HE’s doing all right for himself. As is customary with these underground behemoths, most of the space is a celebration of the owner’s brilliance. Beansy’s going to revolutionise the world of ideas AGAIN. Have your say
You must sign in to make a comment. He’s some grade of illionaire now, with an inverse multi-storey experimental gaff in Belgravia.His iceberg mansion extends deep beneath the unsuspecting streets of non-nanofuturological London. All those pretend charities shipping it overseas for profit, along with our unfashionable trousers, Keep Calm and Vote Lib Dem T-shirts and whatnot.Beansy’s inviting me over for drinks, always a bit of a saga as one of his hobbies is inventing new alcohols. Extraordinary to see how far nanotechnology has moved on in the last few months. Along with everyone else, I neither covet nor begrudge.
