Generation A by Douglas Coupland Page A

somewhere. I gladly accepted a lift to the airport; screw the useless Denny. I had my Visa card and money in the bank. If the airport gods were rooting for me, I could be back in my own house by dinnertime.
    Well, I must say that the good thing about being in wintry places like Manitoba and Northern Ontario is that airports treat snowstorms like summer breezes. Rick bought me a head scarf and some horn-rimmed reading glasses. People yammer on about how hard it is to fly, but not in this part of the world: uranium and nickel discoveries keep the octane flowing. I checked in electronically and, with one hub in Sudbury, I was soon landing in North Bay. I called a cab and headed for home—only to find that home was now a pile of planks and beams and plywood sheets in stacks, the only vertical item being my chimney.
    The cab driver was pressing me to either get out or go somewhere else. I told him to fuck off, and when I stepped out of the car for a closer look at what was once my house, he drove away. There I was, the sun about to set, the weather chilly, with no idea of where to go next. I heard Kayla barking from the house across the street. I’d very much been hoping that the Humane Society had taken the dog away from the evil bastard Mitch.
    At this point, I was feeling sorry for myself. My parents were in Nova Scotia, and I didn’t feel like going there particularly. Shit, I hadn’t even phoned them yet. Well, it goes to show how family-oriented I am. I realized I could go to the dental clinic and crash there while figuring out what came next. At the dental office, I typed my password into the keypad—it still worked—and was reassured by the office’s familiar minty-antiseptic odour. I phoned my parents in Nova Scotia, but their number was no longer in service. Okay.
    I wondered where I was going to sleep. Certainly not on the waiting-room sofas, which would be crawling with people’s ass molecules. I sat at Patty the receptionist’s desk and ordered a pizza. Beside some files I saw a stack of bright yellow boxes of Solon. What was Patty doing with Solon? I thought only people who were rotting in jail or trapped in factory jobs took the stuff. I read the box:
PRODUCT INFORMATION
SOLON CR®
(Dihydride Spliceosomic Protein snRNP-171)
Sustained-Release
Chronosuppressant Tablets
DESCRIPTION: SOLON is a protein with chronosuppressive features. It is a synthetic spliceosomic protein, a complex of specialized RNA and protein subunits that removes introns from a transcribed pre-mRNA (hnRNA) segment.
SOLON’s interaction with brain receptors mimics that of the diaminoketone class.
SOLON powder is pale yellow, crystalline and soluble in water and oils, and is resistant to damage by heat, cold or UV light.
Introducing SOLON CR
SOLON CR is indicated for the short-term treatment of psychological unease grounded in obsession with thinking about the near and distant future. By severing the link between the present moment and a patient’s perceived future state, researchers have found a pronounced and significant drop in all forms of anxiety. As well, researchers have found that disengagement with “the future” has allowed many patients complaining of persistent loneliness to live active and productive single lives with no fear or anxiety.
The makers of SOLON® (dihydride spliceosomic protein snRNP-171) have been helping millions of people cope with stress in a natural and relaxed manner. Our dedication continues today with SOLON CR, a controlled-release prescription chronosuppressant medication that comes in two layers. The first layer dissolves quickly, to help with short-term anxiety and time-based psychological issues. Then the second layer dissolves slowly, to help you stay calm and coping. If you think you are experiencing chronosuppressive illness, talk with your doctor and discuss whether SOLON CR is right for you.
Important Safety Information
SOLON CR is a treatment option you and your health-care provider can