Victoria Diane Mariette 1

Victoria Diane Mariette







supernova73’s blog: 8/8/2613            11:32 a.m.

Topic: (none)


            Here in France for one more day. Incredibly bored. On the other hand, my eighteenth birthday is coming up (for better or for worse J). My best friend Willie’s birthday is on the same day. I wonder if they’ll (the proverbial “they”) let us take the test thing together. After that it’s moon life. Or the other place they (it’s the “they” again!) send the Exiles who fail The Trials. (Lots of capitalized words concerning this.) But that’s not for over a week (or less than two weeks, depending on whether you’re an optimist or a pessimist). For now, I need to figure out a way to spend 24 hours before I’m back home in England. Seriously though, what’s the point of long-distance teleportation being available only so rarely? (No one answer that.)


            I log off the blog website and flop on my bed. Despite what I said, I doubt I’ll have any trouble making the time fly while I’m still in Paris. True, I’ve already seen the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Final War Memorial, and I’ve already talked in French so much I feel like I’ll turn into a poodle if I so much as say “escargot.” (I don’t see what the big deal is about eating snails – any “slime” is cooked off, they wash them thoroughly, and the texture and taste aren’t as gross as, say, octopus.) In any case, I can never get bored as long as I have one thing with me.

            After a quick scan of the newly restored DigiBooks written all the way back in the 20th century, I dig through my backpack until I find what I’m looking for: an ancient, slightly yellowed book printed a hundred years ago. I’ve read it about a million times already, but I don’t care. I open it to a random part and start rereading. I can stay lost in someone else’s world for hours.

            I know, I know – who reads actual, physical books anymore? There are two million (and counting) DigiBooks available at the snap of your fingers at any moment, and I know that. However, I still prefer having something substantial to hold. It always feels like a good story deserves material space, needs to be itself properly. Besides, few good books from that time period have been reproduced into DigiBook format. I’m lucky the girl I knew when I was a little kid gave me her great-grandmother’s entire collection of brilliant novels from just before the Final War. She didn’t know how to appreciate their value. She just thought I was weird.

            It really is a shame no one writes good books any more. All the books written up on the moon seem to be either over-fluffed romance or crappily written. The closest modern literature comes to my considering it worth reading is when the over-fluffed romance gets so ridiculous it’s funny.

            Unfortunately, somehow these thoughts have broken into the silent sphere of concentration that usually forms around my book and me when I’m reading. Now, no matter what I do, I won’t be able to get it back. With a sigh, I close my book and bury deep within my suitcase.

            You see, the thing about reading is that nobody does it anymore, not when they have games like zero-gravity dodge ball and a billion ways to talk to friends. That’s why, if I read, I have to hide it. I have to pretend I don’t find any fun in books, or in finding info about science and how stuff works – science geeks are an endangered species even more than substantial books. No one can know – not even Willie.

            I sigh. Thinking like this won’t help pass the time. I sit up and snap my fingers, my computer instantly popping up. With just a few more movements of my hand, I navigate over to the website I blog on. After checking my blog (a surprisingly large number of people answered my teleportation question, even though I told them not to), I surf over to my best friend’s. She already blogged today – nothing I didn’t know there – but there is an interesting reply to it, too.

The End

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