It’s an open question,” Harvey Brown was saying, as Andrew Jackson pulled up a chair and joined the three men already seated at the window table in the café, “whether it will save, or destroy, the world. But experts agree it will almost certainly do one or the other.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Well that’s all fine and dandy in theory,” said Andrew, “but the fact is not everyone has room in their garage for a fridge.”
The others looked at him, brows furrowed.
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“You’re talking about the new hydrogen fuelling station that you keep in your garage and lets your car… or truck if you’re a normal person… operate with zero emissions, right?” said Andrew. “And it’s about the size of a fridge, which as I say, not everyone…”
“Yeah, no,” said Grant Toews, who was sitting with his back to the window finishing off a plate of bacon and eggs. “Not what we were talking about at all.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Andrew. “So what were you talking about? Genetically modified potato beetles?”
Garnet Shore who was sitting next to Grant scoffed. “Genetically modified potato beetles will neither save nor destroy the world,” he said. “They probably won’t even matter much to potatoes.”
Andrew shrugged. “Everyone is entitled to an opinion,” he said, “no matter how poorly informed. But seriously, what were you talking about that you suppose has the capacity to save the world? Or destroy it, apparently.”
“Facebook,” said Harvey.
“Oh,” said Andrew. “I’m not on Facebook.”
“Ah well, I am,” said Harvey. I have 765 friends on Facebook, and they all have one thing in common.”
“Oh?” said Garnet. “All of them? And what might that be?”
“I hate every one of them,” said Harvey.
“I hear you,” said Garnet. “I got a friend request on Facebook from my oldest actual friend a few years ago, a guy I’ve known since I was five and who I still talked to at least once a week. So of course I accepted his request, because why wouldn’t I? I had no reason not to trust him. Twenty seconds later he sent me a photograph of… guess what?”
The others just looked at him.
“His oatmeal,” said Garnet. “I haven’t spoken to him since. I don’t need to see that on my computer screen, a picture of your oatmeal, with your fancy schmancy saskatoons that you just picked off the bushes that line the driveway of your country estate! I have my own oatmeal, thank you very much. You know what’s in my oatmeal? Bitterness and regret. Which on the bright side makes it taste better, but still.” He paused. “You know what would go really good with bitterness and regret? Some frickin’ saskatoons.”
“You see?” said Harvey. “Facebook takes ordinary people and turns them into monsters who share pictures of their breakfast cereal in a pretentious manner.”
“You know what goes good with oatmeal?” said Grant. “Cheese. Seriously. Try it.”
“I will,” said Andrew. “But you know what else makes oatmeal taste better?”
“No, what?” said Garnet.
“Literally anything,” said Andrew.
“That’s a valid point,” said Harvey, “but it isn’t really germane to the issue.”
“What’s the issue again?” said Andrew.
“Facebook destroying the world,” said Harvey.
“I’m not on Facebook,” said Andrew, again.
“Well la-de-da good for you,” said Harvey. “You get to pretend that rampant racism and xenophobia and hilarious cat videos just don’t exist, because you’re living in the 1980s, back in the good old days when a little racism never hurt anyone.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure there was never a time when a little racism didn’t hurt anyone,” he said.
“You’re right. Poor choice of words,” said Harvey. “What I meant was back in the days when, if you were a little racist nobody would know about it except your family and the guys you had coffee with at the café. Not like now. Now everyone knows. Because if there’s one thing that brings out the unsavoury aspects of your character it’s Facebook.”
“Are there any good people on Facebook?” said Grant.
“No,” said Harvey.
“But what about you?” said Andrew. “You’re a decent person.”
“Not when I’m on Facebook,” said Harvey. “On Facebook I’m an intolerant opinionated jackass.”
“Have you considered quitting Facebook?” asked Grant.
“I can’t,” said Harvey.
“Why not?” asked Grant.
“Because I have 765 friends who need me,” said Harvey, “to point out how wrong they are.”
“Right,” said Grant.
“Wrong,” said Andrew.
“I’m hungry,” said Garnet. “I think I’ll have the oatmeal.”
