I think they're called EMPs. I don't really follow international news much.

[Even local news he mostly gets from his mama, who has nothing better to do than sit around the house watching the television and feeding the tortoise.]

Right, okay. Our walkies go about two miles, so that converts... [oh god, math. He tries not to make it clear that he's moving his fingers on one hand to count off multiples of two.] ...to yours is about thirty times better.

[So he can assume her world is probably way more advanced on tech than whatever made it to Ebbing. Maybe a few generations? He's got no idea.]

So we are from different times.