Day #30

Holy crap, I almost forgot to post today!! And it's the last day, so I'd kick myself (and I'm not that flexible) if I fucked up now. So, yeah.

Apparently my last post was popular with one of the few people who read this, so I was gonna try and post another part of the story, but...I was writing some of it last night. But I didn't get very far before deciding I needed to go to bed. I suppose I could post what I wrote, and any of you who read this can give me pointers on what is wrong with it. I'll think about it.

Otherwise, well, this has been an interesting 30 days. I've talked about absolutely nothing, copped-out at every opportunity, and maybe had 4 or so real posts the whole time. Which is actually pretty good for me, I mean, 4 posts in one month? And none about boating down my street?? 'Course, it's November, it doesn't tend to flood quite so much this time of the year...anyways. All in all, it was a good experience, but both my select readers and I will be glad I don't do this all the time. It'd be really freakin' boring if I did.

Oh well, I guess I'll go ahead and post the next couple of paragraphs in that story, and maybe post again in a couple of weeks.

Mata ne! ("See you later" in Japanese)


Bob, née Elizabeth, paused a moment in the hallway outside the glowing white operating room she had just left, staring at her index fingers on both hands. It seemed amazing to her that she now had a tiny thread of intelligent fiber optics in both fingers, that supposedly would allow her to access any of the many computers throughout the Company’s headquarters, as well as any of their branches all over the galaxy. Merely the act of brushing her index finger over a computer would give her immediate, if only partial, access to the information contained therein. And to understand the information that would pour like blood from a wound into her mind, the counterpart to those finger fiber optics--her hand flew reflexively to the base of her skull two inches behind her right ear. There, those same skilled surgeons who wove technology into her fingertips ensconced the counterpart, a relay device for the information, that would translate it to a form her mind could digest. Just what form, she did not know. Although her childhood had included most luxuries, she had been kept somewhat removed from aspects of technology, seeing as her father had always been suspicious of humanity’s reliance upon the machine.
Shaking her head, the bottom of her pony-tail brushing the tops of her calves, Bob began to move down the hallway, dragging her fingers along the dark gray granite of the walls. She walked with no real purpose; she would find her room later, for now she wanted to explore the building. As she walked, she repeatedly thought she heard voices, even when she was alone in the hallway, and not always the same voice. Bob simply figured it to be the work of her imagination, thinking the walls in a place such as this would have so many stories to tell.
Bob rounded a corner and was immediately blinded by the sunlight pouring down through the faux-glass ceiling of a large park-like atrium.