Wednesday, November 6, 2013

"What is left of me?" (Excerpt from Mirror Project)

It's been a busy couple of weeks, with ASD posts and other professional concerns, but here's another look at my most recent book for those of you who haven't grabbed a copy yet. If you have read it, please leave me some ratings/reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. The feedback in those spaces makes a huge difference, and I do appreciate it.

“We have wireless magnetic conduction charging everywhere in the lab,” Holly said. “You can passively charge just by sitting around. It does require you to purposefully schedule sedentary time, such as reading or watching TV, because it charges slowly and your power consumption needs to be lower than your draw from the charging pads. When you go home, Bill will have it installed in the house.”

“What if I want to travel? What do I do if I don't have access to magnetic conduction pads?” The idea that I would be permanently a prisoner in areas where Bill had already installed these charging pads was worrisome.

“There's a 220 volt socket for wall charging,” Holly replied. “It's not convenient, but it works anyplace that allows you to charge electric vehicles.”

I digested that for a moment. It sat uneasily in my mind, this idea that I would need to plug myself, my own actual body, into an electric car charging station in order to stay alive. “What is left of me?” I asked. “How much of what I am is the same as what I was before the accident?”

Holly held her hands up in front of herself and shook her head. “I'm not the person to answer that. I'm just a software developer.”

“What's your best guess?” I had to know. She and I were alone, and she seemed to be the person who was most directly responsible for the way my new body worked. I wanted so badly for her to tell me, and not to worry about what Bill would think.

She just kept shaking her head. Her hands went up and down in a kind of pathetic, noncommittal shrug. If she answered me verbally, I never heard it. My fatigue caught up with me, and I was once again swallowed by blank unconsciousness.

Want more? Grab a copy of Mirror Project. It's less than $3 on Kindle.