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of that storehouse of memory because our brain must adhere to the programming limitations imposed by the blinding forces of our perceived reality—a reality anchored by natural selection and the weight of our evolution as a species. While there are exceptions to the rule—photographic memory … Mozart composing music as a child—solving abstract problems of logic or recalling previously read texts was not a skill our ancestors required to survive while hunting and foraging. Furthermore, the human brain cannot relay to the mind what our senses cannot perceive, and our senses lie to us during every waking moment.
    “By the baffled look, I gather you’re lost. An example then: As we speak, our planet is rotating on its axis as it soars through space at a speed exceeding eleven hundred miles a minute. And yet, we feel nothing. Why? Because our senses lie to us, concealing the velocity from our brain. The walls of this train possess atoms, each a universe unto itself, and yet we cannot perceive of the micro any more than the macro. If our senses cannot perceive it, Ms. Helms, then for us it does not exist, and yet it does. What is needed is a pair of neural spectacles that will allow us to see.
    “Enter ABE, a bio-chip that allows its user to direct his or her thought impulses to the parts of the brain best suited to download, comprehend, store, and retrieve the information. Think of ABE as a television remote control, one that uses thought energy to enable its user to channel surf or immediately dial up their desired program or app.”
    Stealing a breath, I had ABE restore the h-phone volume, catching Mount Saint Helms in midgust.
    “… virtual research showed that eighty-six percent of a populace enhanced with your neural chip would use ABE like an LSD trip, smelling colors and seeing music in their heads. Ninety-seven percent of subjects using ABE would miss at least five hours of work each week, absorbed in some sordid act of mental masturbation. Of greater concern to many of us New Americans who adhere to the guiding principles of the Bible is that your neural chip can control the secretion of hormones like progesterone, allowing a woman to abort her own child.”
    And there it was. No matter what the topic, the religious radicals always steered the conversation back to what Dad had dubbed the “GAG reflex”—God, abortion, and gays—only now the crusaders had a new tool in their arsenal of crazy in which to fool the public: virtual research. The dysfunctional algorithm was a turd of vanilla sway shitted by a group of Creationists demanding that online school curriculums offer their contrived branch of science, which claimed to debunk evolution as an improvable theory.
    Virtual research. The words made my blood pressure spike, causing the carotid artery in my neck to throb. For a split second I could feel my anger summoning another soul looking for a vacancy.
    Ah, but I had ABE.
    Sensing the emotional tsunami, my tiny neural implant reduced my level of adrenaline, causing my constricting blood vessels to redilate—a sensation similar to submerging oneself slowly into a cool pool of water on a hot summer’s day.
    Ah …
    With the physical symptoms of my anger subsiding, it was time to demonstrate to Madame Mammary Glands what ABE was really about.
    “Ty mne Vanku ne valjay.”
    “Sorry, I don’t speak German.”
    “It’s Russian, Ms. Helms, and it’s one of several dozen languages I now speak, thanks to ABE’s temporal lobe setting, which stimulates memory, allowing its user to create his or her own database in the time it takes one to listen to a language CD. Read a book and you’ve memorized the text; engage ABE’s dictation unit and you can record a letter or even a novel and simultaneously download it to anyone else who possesses an ABE chip. Program ABE’s self-diagnostic app and your brain will boost your body’s immune system to prevent cancer or cure virtually any ailment. Immortality is