my old friend mohonaa suggests having a lager (non alcoholic) at the CR – the coffee republic to those who’re not in the know. and mohonaa, well, he is a man in his fifties, a man of real intellectual heft, a science educator, a chess coach, probably the best player in all of the nation. probably, but i think @dethpuhu will beat him one day.

anyway, as a young fella i quite idolised mohonaa’s mind for the clarity of his arguments, the cold brilliance of his logic, the feynman-like gift to breakdown complex scientific concepts for a guy like me to grasp them with ease.
he explained the notion of a parallel universe over a game of chess once. he picked up two bishops on different coloured squares.

‘they can never cross over to each others’ realms,’ he said, ‘though they’re on the same board, even right beside each other. the board is the multiverse, you might say.’

i was fairly impressed, which says something about me.

today though, we are talking about the nature of the generational gap between us boomers and the zoomers.

‘their claims contradict statistical data and science in general. it’s like they’ve never heard of logic. they are either delusional, irrational, or misinformed,’ says mohonaa smoothly, grinning at me. and then something ancient and archtypal clicks in me.

‘look, these are kids who grew up with ipads. with virtual worlds where they could be any kinda character they felt like. the real problem is technology, man. once technology catches up, it won’t be so bad. we won’t be making such a big hoohaa about it.’

‘yeah but i’m talking about the reality right now. right now they are deluded. you see? they’re bringing their virtual world assumptions and behaviour to the real world.’

the server brings me the lager but i am a bit distracted by this conversation to take a pic.

‘but what’s it to us anyway? do they bother you personally?’ i ask.

‘why should i cooperate with a man who wants me to address him as they/them? am i not allowed to ask them why? especially given that we have terms for biological sexes – male or female. he or she. it’s scientific.’

‘well, that’s what we think but times have changed, brother. we’re old, this is not our world anymore. you gotta go with the flow, or you’ll be crushed.’

‘what rubbish. it’s a scientific fact-‘

‘but you’re not even a scientist,’ i tell him jokingly.

his face falls.

‘i never expected an adhominem from you,’ he says leaning forward in his armchair, his pale, beardless face gleaming with a ferocious intensity. ‘you know, you were different back then. reasonable, a very rational person. now it seems like you’re both defeatist and a little untethered from reality. i am not quite saying delusional.’ he smiles.

‘well man, the zeitgeist has changed,’ i say, and take a sip from my beer. it’s good actually. crisp, not too bitter, malty.

‘they don’t want logic or science to dictate things anymore,’ i continue. ‘cos honestly, look what THAT’S done to the world. i think it’s more about going by feels now.’

‘what rot. how can you be so callous about science when it’s given you everything? the guitars, the computers? hell, your entire life!’

‘wow, that science really is a grand old bitch isn’t it?’

‘so it’s a joke to you, huh? you’re almost as deluded as them.’

‘aren’t we all?’

‘no. if a delusion is pointed out to me,’ he begins in complete ernest. ‘i will accept it and make corrections as needed. you might not know this but there are facts about the world. indubitable facts.’

‘yeah, but that is our reality, man. it’s not theirs.’

‘are you even hearing yourself? theirs is the SAME, we live in the EXACT SAME world. the SAME universe. the SAME laws apply. you can’t break the laws of physics.’

‘yeah, you gotta have a cosmic referree to stop that kinda shit,’ i say. and mohonaa’s face scrunches up.

‘science and facts are just little jokes now eh?’ he says coldly.

you don’t know the half of it pal, i think. cos in fact, the whole of life is a joke. but sometimes if you’re lucky, you can laugh, and that laughter is the only justification you’ll ever have, i’m almost certain.

‘i don’t think we can have a conversation again,’ says mohonaa getting up to leave. and it occurs to me how very vulnerable he is in that thin, frayed, aged armour of logic and science.