Mae felt grave doubts. 'TV in our heads. I don't want TV in my head.' She thought of viper newsreaders and kung fu.

Wing said, 'It's not just TV. It is more than TV. It is the whole world.'

'What does that mean?'

'It will be the Net – only, in your head. The fools and drunks in these parts know nothing about it; it is a word they use to sound modern. But you go to the cafes, you see it. The Net is all things.' He began to falter.

'Explain! How can one thing be all things?'

There was a crowd of people gathering to listen.

'Everything is on it. You will see on our new TV. It will be a Net TV.' Kwan's husband did not really know, either.

The routine had been soured. Halat the hairdresser was in a very strange mood, giggly, chattery, her teeth clicking together as if it were cold.

'Oh, nonsense,' she said, when Mae went into her usual performance. 'Is this for a wedding? For a feast?'

'No,' said Mae. 'It is for my special friend.'

The little hussy put both hands either side of her mouth as if in awe. 'Oh! Uh!'

'Are you going to do a special job for her or not?' Mae demanded. Her eyes were able to say: I see no one else in your shop.

Oh, how the girl would have loved to say, I am very busy – if you need something special, come back tomorrow. But money spoke. Halat slightly amended her tone. 'Of course. For you.'

'I bring my friends to you regularly because you do such good work for them.'

'Of course,' the child said. 'It is all this news; it makes me forget myself.'

Mae drew herself up, and looked fierce, forbidding – in a word, older. Her entire body said: Do not forget yourself again. The way the child dug away at Kwan's hair with the long comb-handle said back: Peasants.

The rest of the day did not go well. Mae felt tired, distracted. She made a terrible mistake and, with nothing else to do, accidentally took Kwan to the place where she bought her lipsticks.