| Author: | Ronnie Coleinger | ISBN: | 9781311240941 |
| Publisher: | Ronnie Coleinger | Publication: | October 12, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Ronnie Coleinger |
| ISBN: | 9781311240941 |
| Publisher: | Ronnie Coleinger |
| Publication: | October 12, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
The Vacation Writer
Many humans living in the twenty-fifth century AD find their lives revolving around the accumulation of wealth, leaving them little time for relaxation. The Vacation Writer gives these humans a memorable vacation experience without leaving the confines of their homes. The design of each vacation falls within the guidelines set forth in a questionnaire filled out by the client, but the limits placed on the content of the vacation are mostly nonexistent. Child porn and rape seems to be the only limit set forth in the final legal contract; only the imagination of the client and of the Vacation Writer guides the details of the final vacation itinerary. Once the client signs the legal contract, a doctor on staff at the Vacation Clinic implants a tiny memory chip (Vacation Chip or V-Chip) with a hypodermic needle into the right half of their cerebrum. Within minutes, the chip connects to the tiny synapsis within their brain and provides the client with total recall of their vacation, just as any human would if they had taken a real physical vacation.
Ronnie Coleinger
An Excerpt
The waiter wrote a message on a napkin and placed it face down under the silverware beside Brigitte’s dinner plate. She saw the writing on the napkin as the handsome man arranged her tableware and then sat a steaming hot bowl of soup in front of her. When the waiter walked away, Brigitte turned the napkin over and read the message. The words made her giggle. She put her fingers over her lips to keep from making a sound as she read. The note was short, but to the point. Brigitte slid the napkin into the large pocket on her khaki shorts, and then removed a spare door key from another pocket. She placed the key attached to a yellow tag with the number twelve stamped on it on the table and covered it with a napkin. Then she returned her attention to the soup in front of her. As she stirred the soup with her spoon to cool it, she felt her own body heat building. She was more excited over her rendezvous with the waiter than with the twenty-dollar bowl of soup he had just placed in front of her.
Ronnie Coleinger
The Vacation Writer
Many humans living in the twenty-fifth century AD find their lives revolving around the accumulation of wealth, leaving them little time for relaxation. The Vacation Writer gives these humans a memorable vacation experience without leaving the confines of their homes. The design of each vacation falls within the guidelines set forth in a questionnaire filled out by the client, but the limits placed on the content of the vacation are mostly nonexistent. Child porn and rape seems to be the only limit set forth in the final legal contract; only the imagination of the client and of the Vacation Writer guides the details of the final vacation itinerary. Once the client signs the legal contract, a doctor on staff at the Vacation Clinic implants a tiny memory chip (Vacation Chip or V-Chip) with a hypodermic needle into the right half of their cerebrum. Within minutes, the chip connects to the tiny synapsis within their brain and provides the client with total recall of their vacation, just as any human would if they had taken a real physical vacation.
Ronnie Coleinger
An Excerpt
The waiter wrote a message on a napkin and placed it face down under the silverware beside Brigitte’s dinner plate. She saw the writing on the napkin as the handsome man arranged her tableware and then sat a steaming hot bowl of soup in front of her. When the waiter walked away, Brigitte turned the napkin over and read the message. The words made her giggle. She put her fingers over her lips to keep from making a sound as she read. The note was short, but to the point. Brigitte slid the napkin into the large pocket on her khaki shorts, and then removed a spare door key from another pocket. She placed the key attached to a yellow tag with the number twelve stamped on it on the table and covered it with a napkin. Then she returned her attention to the soup in front of her. As she stirred the soup with her spoon to cool it, she felt her own body heat building. She was more excited over her rendezvous with the waiter than with the twenty-dollar bowl of soup he had just placed in front of her.
Ronnie Coleinger
