Marshall Mallicoat

In the twilight of GMT+1


The telegraph was an early internet, with its own lolcats and leetspeak. To people in the future, we probably seem like steampunks: one foot in the last century, carrying our brains around in our pockets like Tamagotchis.

To open a file on your computer, you touch an arrowhead to a tiny picture of a manila folder. When you want to save, an artist's rendering of a 3.5” floppy disk. Clicking on a trashcan will de-index a block of memory. If the world was Tetris, we'd all have roofs with holes in them (or no roofs at all).

Buddhist prayers wheels have a mantra written around so that, when spun, it is like the mantra is being read. The Dalai Lama has said that having the mantra on your computer works the same as a traditional wheel. As the digital image spins on your hard drive, it sends the peaceful prayer of compassion in all directions.

The Malaysian space agency recommends that Muslim astronauts, if they cannot determine the direction of Mecca, pray in the direction of the Earth. Failing that, any direction is acceptable. Additionally they advise you to "observe peace with other beings."

In Tibet and Nepal, they still practice sky burials, where bodies are stripped and laid out for the vultures to eat. But the bodies that have been given medicine or cleaned in hospitals make the vultures sick, so they have to be buried in the ground.

Apparently the most coveted donors for knee replacements are Muslim men. Their patella are kept flexible by the years of praying on their knees.

There have never been middle-aged rappers before. And you can't even make a rapper admit to rapping anymore. They've become demure.

I remember when pay phones cost 35 cents. I remember pay phones. I asked around and confirmed that they don't even play beer pong with beer in the cups anymore. They just keep score on paper. We will be among the last people on Earth to remember before the Internet, if yet we still do.