Free The Gum Thief by Douglas Coupland Page A

texturizers had to be added, after which the coloured muck had to be solidified, inserted into chromed f1exi-rods, vacuum sealed into a perverse amount of packaging, and then trucked out into the world along complex interstate freeway systems and rail lines, their voyages heralded by massive print and electronic ad campaigns that made the world's Glorias bay with desire.
    What if everybody on earth suddenly turned stupid? What if we couldn't make lipstick or anything else? That would be the end of the world, wouldn't it? What if everybody's IQ simultaneously dropped fifty points? For the first hour or so, nobody would notice, but then it would become obvious. Hey-who forgot to turn off the nuclear power plant? Boy, this fuel tanker sure is hard to navigate through these rocky bodies of water. Does anybody here remember how to work this fire ladder? I'm sorry, kids, I was going to make wiener schnitzel for dinner, but I forgot the recipe, and besides, the butcher couldn't slice any veal because the machine jammed and nobody knows how to fix it.
    From there it would be only a brief amount of time before the planet "cracked open like an egg," a line she remembered from an old Planet of the Apes movie.

    Oh humanity!

    How tenuous is our plight!
    Gloria delivered those made-up lines in her mind as though they were lines in a play--a play starring Gloria. This, in turn, reminded her of her inability to remember her lines as Lady Windermere, a shortcoming that was bringing her fellow cast members close to mutiny.
    People, how can I bring Lady Windermere to life if you don't give me time to fully express myself?
    Leonard had taken her aside. "My frisky little schnitzel, you have until Monday to get your lines straight. Yes, I enjoy banging you as much as the next guy, but there's only so long I can cover for you. Take some B vitamins, lock yourself in a motel room and learn your frigging lines."
    Philistine.
    Gloria does not require vitamins to memorize her lines.
    She idly fondled her spleen. Why would a spleen suddenly become puffy and inflamed? How unusual. I'm sure it's nothing serious.
    And what about dinner for young Kyle and Brittany? Not to worry. They're young. They don't need much nutrition. They could live on their body fat alone for weeks. Gloria then waxed nostalgic for the recent past: My, those last few pickles really were tasty. I should buy some more someday.
    In the end, it was easier simply to ignore Kyle's question.

Glove Pond

    As Steve described in loving detail to Brittany the birth pangs of each of his five novels, a part of his brain was wondering if Kyle thought he was stupid. Kyle had that look Steve sometimes saw in his more challenging students. What pains in the butt they could be. He much preferred the students who showed up, asked if they would be graded on attendance and then sat like drugged houseplants for the remainder of the semester. The Kyle Falconcrests of this world were trouble young Kyle certainly wasn't paying a respectful amount of attention to Steve's loving dissertations. If anything, Kyle was watching Gloria massage her spleen.
    Steve's stomach growled.

    Time for more booze.
    But Brittany was leaning towards him expectantly, twiddling her hair, and so he continued talking. He finished discussing water metaphors in Gumdrops, Lilies and Forceps, and was about to take on Less Than Fewer, when a chill rippled down his spine and he had a vision of the end of the world that froze him to his core. In his vision, everybody on earth suddenly became a genius.

    Brrrrrr . ..
    Imagine a world populated by back-seat drivers, a planet where everybody knew the answer to everything, and where everybody was out to use their new genius to grab more for themselves. Everybody would find secret shortcuts to get home from the office, thus clogging all the streets. At the grocers, newly minted food experts would select only the finest and freshest fruits and cuts of meat, placing undue strain on the food