The Queen’s birthday is this week. Still a teenager, and increasingly rolling her eyes at me when I have not heard of something on the Internet (“you’ve never been to 4chan?! I mean not that you’d want to go there but…”) or when I try to interest her in the quaint pastimes of my childhood–
“No thanks, I already tried to read it. It’s boring.”
“How can you think Neuromancer is boring? It’s cyberpunk! It’s cool and high-tech and stuff!”
“Mom. I like steampunk, not cyberpunk. Cyberpunk is boring.”
“You whippersnapper! I bet you don’t even say ‘cyberspace’ anymore, do you?”
“Huh? What’s ‘cyberspace’? Is that like being online?”
Please, just take me out to the glue factory now and have me recycled humanely. Preferably with some kind of brass steam-powered recycling engine made out of way too many gears, so it won’t shame my children.
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That’s particularly depressing, of course, to those of us who never approached your level of “coolth” to begin with.
Oh yes you are, Mr. Published Author Guy.
Wow, you got hit with Mom’s Curse bad.
You could always lend her Iron Dragon’s Daughter, I suppose. But that might be overkill.
Neuromancer high-tech? It doesn’t even have cell phones. :p
I’m still quietly proud of forcing my 6th form English teacher to read Neuromancer in order to mark my Wider Reading essay (“Novels Of The Dark Future – The Time Machine, Nineteen Eighty-Four and Neuromancer”).
Karmic payback for Measure For Measure, basically.