Neo-Generation X

Positively buoyant. Eschew the recliner, too energised! 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’. Right up there with landfill and tinned pies. 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. ‘Whoa, this is beyond awesome. 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. Ian Martin gets his first taste of neogen
MONDAY A call from my old mate Beansy the nanofuturologist.   That’ll be the ‘neogen’ says Beansy casually, 3D-synthesising some breakfast. 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. They’re even constructed from two of his signature innovative materials — ‘hard air’ and Kryptogel®. Although now I think about it there must be a brisk trade in landfill. 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’. I’m incredibly happy for the fat jammy bastard. Neogen is a self-replicating ‘smart gas’. You, dude, have taken to it SO easily. And his invisibility cloak — SO outdated. Extraordinary to see how far nanotechnology has moved on in the last few months. My God, HE’s doing all right for himself. 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. Also a bit creepy, to be honest.Anyway, it’s great to catch up. Beansy’s going to revolutionise the world of ideas AGAIN. Apparently he wants my view on something. Recession-proof. Feel the benefit. 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. Sudden sense of foreboding. They also magnetise all the bad ones into harmless lightweight compost for urban gardens, deserts etc. 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. He starts sweeping me with hand-held monitors and checking on a laptop. Oh. Beansy’s parallel universe transporter now looks about as fresh as the iPhone 4.