O.K., so the board starts out with nothing on it and an infinite number of pieces packed into an infinitely small glass ball. To begin, everyone waits for an indeterminate period, because time hasn’t been conceived of yet in the game. Then the game master—yours truly—bangs the glass ball with a hammer, and all the pieces in the game explode outward to an infinite distance.
Yes, I’ll handle all the cleanup. Watch out for the glass shards, and don’t breathe in the radioactive cosmic dust.
Then we wait a few billion years in game time. You draw one random piece to be your player. For instance, one of you will be a thing called a “tail club,” which is a part of another thing called an “ankylosaurus.” Another one will be a “human being” named “Elon Musk,” which seems like one of the best pieces in the game, since it’s really powerful; the only disadvantage is that everyone thinks it’s a “fascist-adjacent dork with a shockingly bad sense of humor,” except for the pieces labelled “extremely online incel.” And you, my friend, will be a “guest star” on a “very special episode” of “Blossom.”
Esta historia es de la edición June 10, 2024 de The New Yorker.
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Esta historia es de la edición June 10, 2024 de The New Yorker.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
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YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”
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In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.
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Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?
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Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
REPRISE
Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
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Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.