CENTENNIAL BUG

As a rule, I think you should understand what something is before you commit to looking after it for the rest of its life. For example, last year the youngest wanted a pet so I bought him a Roborovski Hamster. On the misapprehension that anything with ‘hamster’ in its name would do the job. Turned out it's too fast to handle and sleeps all day. And keeps the rest of us awake all night by spinning its wheel at an rpm that would put a supercharged V8 to shame. In short, it’s very bad at being a pet. But that’s not its fault. Because, it’s excellent at being a Roborovski Hamster. And what more can you ask of any rodent - or anybody for that matter - than being itself, well. Undoubtedly the fault was mine.

And it looks like I’ve never understood my children either. Because an article in the paper has just told me what they actually are. Turns out we’re not the same species, which accounts for a lot. They’re something called Centennials; 21st century super beings descended from late breeding Generation X’ers (like us) and our beloved successors, the Millennials. 

Who have had their day it would seem. Fine by me, never liked them anyway. Moping around with their suspicious-looking tubs of homemade super juice. Nibbling bird seed and whinging on about terrorism and not being able to buy a house. 

Anyway, now they’ve got something else to worry about. They’re about to be outclassed by Centennials, and I’ve got two of them.

On paper (the London Evening Standard to be exact) the Centennial is an impressive beast. Only recently discovered (it used to be called Generation Z until someone came up with a better name) the Centennials are super-smart and the most technically fluent generation ever. To think I had them down as a bunch of lazy, unmotivated layabouts. Shows how much I know. Because actually they’re conscientious and creative, with an unparalleled visual awareness and sense of personal brand. 

Although none of them are older than 16 yet, the signs are they won’t have sex before marriage, smoke, do drugs or drink. Apparently all this stopped in 2007 when social media caught on. Weird. They’re not interested in shopping or following fashion, but instead spend an average of nine hours a day carefully ‘curating their aesthetic’ on Snapchat (whatever that is). And yes, they know what ‘aesthetic' means, and can spell it.

Happy Centennials on a wall in the sunshine. Note the technical fluency and optimistic disposition.

I always imagined that at some point in the next few years the eldest would stop looking disapprovingly at every can of Special Brew I popped open, and possibly even join me for one. Not going to happen. The cultural chasm between us will not narrow it seems. The Whitesnake CD collection will remain in the loft, uninherited, while he listens in moderation to wholesome well behaved people like Kendall Jenner (whoever he is) while simultaneously conducting a global web chat on the role of the 3-D printer in sustainable aquaculture.

Centennials were born glued to iPads. But get this; the theory is that one day they’re going to look up from their tablets and start doing things. This I find particularly exciting. It appears that everyone from marketeers to stock market analysts are holding their breath to see what happens when they begin interacting with the physical world. Apparently they’re going to change it. For the better. Because Centennials won’t be prepared to take the world as they find it. They're optimistic, empowered, and entirely focused on achieving their ambitions. And if they don’t like the rules, they’re going to change them.

Centennials curating themselves.

But what will they do? And will they show mercy to us lesser generations? Will they round up the miserable Millennials (or at least the ones not busy spawning new Centennials) and put them to work in detox smoothie factories? Or will they just send them off into a corner to commune quietly with their Mindfulness colouring books? 

And what about us degenerate Generation X'ers? Will they find a use for us? Perhaps we could just drive them around - until they’ve perfected teleportation anyway. But there again, Centennials don’t need to go anywhere. Not when the world’s at their fingertips. Wonder if they’ll need someone to polish their touchscreens?

Back home I approach the house with a new sense of excitement - even trepidation - as I prepare to engage with my clutch of Centennials. I hope they haven’t already transformed into something useful and I missed it. But no, luckily, neither of them have learnt to straighten their necks or converse intelligently. But I know all of this is going to change. A force for good is about to be unleashed on the World. Soon our work will be done, and we will fall away like exhausted booster rockets as our children reach for the stars. 

“Don’t forget you need to clean out the hamster this weekend.”

“Can’t be bothered Dad, you do it!"

One day. But not yet.

@jesoverthinksit