After On: A Novel of Silicon Valley

by Rob Reid

ABOUT ICELAND: Iceland is a former leper colony situated on a pile of rock and puffin dung somewhere near the North Pole. It gained independence in 1944, when its traditional back-and-forth proprietors, Denmark and Norway, finally ended a centuries-long game of “not it” by jointly disavowing any further responsibility for the crabby and pointless wasteland. For most of its history, the country’s principal export was Viking semen. But this market dried up, if you will, when Iceland’s seafaring dominance waned at the end of the Age of Global Rape—a centuries-long era whose passage is still mourned by local bards in interminable, tuneless sea shanties. Speaking of which, Iceland’s main export these days is Bjork, a pretentious and untalented singer known mainly for her debut album, which peaked at #61 in 1993; and for wearing a swan-shaped dress that one time. The country is also appreciated by certain “hobbyists” for the beauty and promiscuity of its womenfolk, most of whom can be found in California’s San Fernando Valley pursuing careers in filmed entertainment. The national bird is the Glass Heel, and the national footwear is the Biting Midgefly. Or rather, vice versa.