Top-ranking unpartisans had assured him then that -- thanks to petaflop clock speeds -- a new quality of computation now on the drawing board would finally sever the last few strings of the last few stragglers' juvenile commitment to logic.

But they didn't say anything about the businessman hippocampus.

Their expert systems wore human enhancement like lift tickets at Cabo, mathematics-speak at dinner, jock camaraderie in nerdland.

They had come back from the edge, where the human race had been, and their nano wires were still showing and the antennae among them dragged along the ground, leaving a nano trail in the dust. The dust from whose random particles had emerged a layer.

They had brought back videos from select days of edge history that witnessed the taking down of thousand year old gold-encrusted symbols of power and authority but then what?

Their molecular nanobot interface, it turns out, was spitting out wonks from extreme modem with only one response to adversity: "If you don't watch out, we will reverse-engineer you back to NOT the fucking STONE AGE, but back to the fucking CAMBRIAN EXPLOSION!"

These entrepreneurs of cross-human melodrama had convened researchers of the subhuman soap opera for the purpose of brainstorming what will happen when their report is released.

Their team surmised that criticism of the report would average out to someone saying, about it: "You know, this experiment must have been devised by either just some lush sitting around listening to the Stones, or just some, you know, stoner, sitting around listening to Lush."

But they were wrong.

Instead, a war broke out among the Utopians over it. Pessimistic utopians, who fervently believed in utopia, but also realized it was just too fucking, you know, UTOPIAN to ever actually HAPPEN, had tried to shut down all the wide-eyed optimistic utopians who actually BELIEVED utopia was actually possible, and so were always falling for the lamest con games in town and giving utopianism a bad name.

Meanwhile, pessimistic dystopians had begun a whisper campaign to wipe out all the optimistic dystopians who were suddenly springing up believing that, while everything really WAS utterly stupid and lame to the core, that, still, it wasn't necessarily ALL that bad and, in fact, if you taped it and edited it down to the absolutely most insipid moments and ran it Tuesday night at 10 on MTV, then, hey, what's there to be so all fucking bummed out about?

But the pessimistic dystopians didn't see it that way and knew they had to wipe out those damn optimistic dystopians and they knew the only way to do this was to join forces with the optimistic utopians, who like themselves (the pessimistic dystopians) were at least standing up for their fundamental core beliefs against a buncha loser wishy-washy infidels.

At the press conference announcing their alliance they issued the following statement:

...the cutting edge federal agency will happen when the hippocampus is tweaked and the information decades will happen very fast thanks to nanobots with life and penis extension, whichever comes first.

Their brain modem bacteria applied to the cognitive science of coming spit out interfaces to what will happen and when.

These interfaces, applied to the initial report on expert business showed that federal entrepreneurs begin to talk when policy wonks convene over by the campus hippo man.

Or, as Mark Trifecta's father wrote, "Man is the only animal that can conceive of and execute its own extinction -- or NEEDS TO!"

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