259 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
259 lines
19 KiB
Plaintext
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
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³ THE WRITER ³
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³ by Thomas Nevin Huber ³
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ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
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ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
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³ The writer carefully considered what he would write. He pondered the ³
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³ ideas as he sat waiting for his daughter to get off work. He thought of ³
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³ the setting he would use for his story. He carefully considered what he ³
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³ would call his next story. ³
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³ ³
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³ Later that night he sat down before his computer and glanced once ³
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³ again at the page sitting in front of him. A wicked smile crossed his ³
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³ lips as he thought about the audacity of those that had irritated him. ³
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³ ³
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³ He carefully, ever-so-carefully prepared the words that would make up ³
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³ the first page of the manuscript. This was the most important page, he ³
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³ had been told. Without getting this page just so, the material would ³
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³ never be read, would never be considered, would never receive so much ³
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³ as a second thought. ³
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³ ³
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³ He sighed to himself as he sipped the soft drink, being careful not ³
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³ to spill it onto his keyboard. He scratched a persistent itchy nose, ³
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³ backspacing over his mistakes caused by the errant irritant. He chuckled ³
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³ at his (supposed) humor as he typed the words, which in turn appeared ³
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³ magically on the screen. ³
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³ ³
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³ He purposely left the spot blank, opposite his name. He'd get an ³
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³ accurate word count later, produced by his word processor's spelling ³
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³ checker. ³
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³ ³
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³ He finished out his address, and provided two phone numbers -- one ³
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³ where he could be reached during the day, and another where he could ³
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³ be reached at night. ³
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³ ³
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³ Then he tapped the Enter key several times with the pinky of his ³
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³ right hand to provide just the right number of spaces. ³
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³ ³
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³ The title. Ah, the title, he thought as he stared at the screen. A ³
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³ smile crossed his lips as he paused, then keyed in the code that would ³
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³ apply the appropriate weight and size to the letters. ³
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³ ³
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³ He typed, `The Writer,' and again tapped the Enter key to drop to the ³
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³ first line of text... ³
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³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³
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³ ³ The writer carefully considered what he would compose. He pondered ³ ³
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³ ³ the ideas as he sat waiting for his daughter to meet him after her ³ ³
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³ ³ work. He thought of the setting he would use for his story. He ³ ³
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³ ³ carefully considered what he would call this, his next story. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ Later that night he sat down before his computer and glanced once ³ ³
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³ ³ again at the fax sitting in front of him. A wicked smile crossed ³ ³
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³ ³ his lips as he thought about the audacity of those that barred his ³ ³
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³ ³ way. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ He made sure the room was secure and no errant sounds would make ³ ³
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³ ³ their way to the pickup on the screen in front of him. He tapped the ³ ³
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³ ³ record key and carefully, ever-so-carefully prepared the words that ³ ³
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³ ³ would make up the first page of the manuscript. This was the most ³ ³
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³ ³ important page, he had been told. Without getting this page just so, ³ ³
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³ ³ the material would never be read, would never be considered, would ³ ³
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³ ³ never receive so much as a second thought. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ He sighed to himself as he paused and sipped the soft drink. He ³ ³
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³ ³ continued, but had to pause several times to scratch a persistent ³ ³
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³ ³ itchy nose. Pressing the backspace key, he watched as it erased the ³ ³
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³ ³ words on his screen, caused by the errant irritant. He chuckled at ³ ³
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³ ³ his (supposed) humor as he respoke the words, which in turn ³ ³
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³ ³ appeared magically on the screen. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ He purposely left the spot blank, opposite his name. He'd get an ³ ³
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³ ³ accurate word count later, produced by the word processor's ³ ³
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³ ³ grammar/syntax checker. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ He finished out his address, and provided two phone numbers -- one ³ ³
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³ ³ where he could be reached during the day, and another where he could ³ ³
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³ ³ be reached at night. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ Then spoke the magic word, "Title" and watched as the program ³ ³
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³ ³ provided just the right number of spaces. The computer paused, ³ ³
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³ ³ waiting patiently for him to speak the words. ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ The title. Ah, the title, he thought as he stared at the screen. ³ ³
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³ ³ A smile crossed his lips as he paused, then said, slowly and ³ ³
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³ ³ distinctly, "The Writer." ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ He paused, then added, "End title," and again watched the cursor ³ ³
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³ ³ find its way down the screen, ready to add the words of the story ³ ³
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³ ³ to the screen... ³ ³
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³ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ The writer carefully considered what he would write. He ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ pondered the ideas as he sat waiting for his daughter to ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ finish he day at work. He thought of the setting he would ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ use for his story and he carefully considered what he would ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ call his next story. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ Later that night he sat down in his favorite chair, the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ composer next to him. He glanced once again at the screen in ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ front of him. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he thought ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ about the audacity of those that barred his way. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He picked up his headset, and tapped each of the sensitive ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ pickups. The computer didn't like his actions, and beeped a ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ sour note at him. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He cleared his conscious mind of any stray thoughts that ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ might distract him and put the headset over the crown of his ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ head. It reminded him of a small prayer cap he'd seen worn ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ many, many years before. He couldn't remember the significance ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ of the cap and didn't care. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ The screen reflected his random thoughts in patterns that ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ made no sense. No mind. He hadn't given the all-important ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ mental command to begin. He carefully adjusted the temple ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ and frontal pickups and watched the screen bounce and glide ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ images across it's face. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ For amusement he pictured a pretty girl, then quickly ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ replaced it with a view of his wife, sitting in front of the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ crafting machine that she used to sew, knit, darn, and ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ crochet for her booth in the local craft store. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ Satisfied that everything was in place, he relaxed and ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ cleared his mind. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ "Begin," he uttered to himself. The screen snapped to a ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ page-white display. "Prepare first page heading," he ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ instructed and watched as the words appeared quickly on the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ screen. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ An errant itch distracted him, and as he scratched his nose, ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ the words tore from side to side. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ "Damn," he swore to himself, and watched as the words turned ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ shades of color, and faded from sight. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ "Begin," he reinstructed. He wouldn't let the errant ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ irritant bother him again. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He sighed to himself as he lipped the soft drink straw and ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ was rewarded with a refreshed draught of the liquid. He smiled ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ at his (supposed) humor as he watched the word reappear ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ magically on the screen. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He purposely left the spot blank, opposite his name. It ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ would fill in later, when he instructed the machine to finish. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ Then before the final count was dropped into place, the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ computer would quickly check all aspects of the story, ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ including the plausibility, according to the level of science ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ and fiction he'd programmed earlier. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He checked the material on the screen, making sure the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ appropriate computer address including a target for daytime and ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ nighttime. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ He thought `title' and watched as the cursor jumped to the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ middle of the page, waiting for his thoughts. ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ The title. Ah, the title, he thought as he stared at the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ screen. A smile crossed his lips as he paused, then formed the ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ words in his mind, only to see them appear in the appropriate ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ weight and size on the screen. It read, `The Writer.' ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ The writer carefully considered what he would write. He ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ pondered the ideas as he waited for his daughter to ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ arrive through the transitube from her work. He thought ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ of the setting he would use for his story. He carefully ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ considered what he would call his next story. ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ Later that night he sat in his favorite chair and spoke ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ quietly. "Composer," he said, "Prepare the following story ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ for submission to... " he paused as he glanced at the ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ reject next to the name on the pad. The corporate name was ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ all he needed. ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ "Waiting," the composer spoke back. It had finished his ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ task. ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ `Title' ran across the stage of his mind. `The Writer' ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ appeared in bold headlines over the stage. It was set. ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ He was ready. He began... ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ The writer carefully considered what he would write.³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ He pondered the ideas as he waiting for his daughter ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ to arrive at the transport station in their living ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ room. ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ The composer prepared the first page, complete with ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ his name, grid location, and job code, in case the ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ editor wanted to reach him during the day. ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ He thought of the setting he would use for his ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ story and carefully considered what he would call his ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ next story. The thought struck and was set into the ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ machine. The story would be, `The Writer.' He ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ pictured the opening sequence... ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³ ³ ³
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³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³ ³
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³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³
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³ ³
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³ The writer was satisfied with his results. Keying the 'send' key, he ³
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³ let the manuscript feed through the modem, to come out the other end, in ³
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³ the editorial office, complete, with proper typography, spacing and all ³
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³ just like the editor wanted it. He leaned back, then looked over at the ³
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³ rejection letter and chuckled. Ah, if it were only so easy... ³
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ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
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(Author's note:)
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Background: This story was written as the result of receiving a
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rejection note from a major SF magazine. Initially, I took the letter as
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a slap in the face because of its condition. It was a very bad photocopy,
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with the street address of the firm whited out and typed over. It wasn't
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that I was upset that they didn't accept the story; they didn't have the
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courtesy to send a "clean" rejection slip.
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After the initial irritation, I started reading the letter, and I
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realized how badly it had been composed. Not only were these folks in
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the publishing business (and had been for many, many years), but I really
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expected decently written material from them. After a few hours and in the
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meantime, going after my daughter, I came up with the idea for this story.
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In its current form (as a text file), you can't really get the full
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intended impact. Copiers, as most of you know, tend to lose the quality
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as you make copies, one generation after another. Therefore, each story
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within the story is supposed to be printed in a lighter print until, at
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the end, you can barely make out the words.
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That was the way I sent the story to the magazine, along with a letter
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telling them what I thought about their rejection notice. I did not offer
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the story for publication to them, and didn't hear anything back. A later
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story (BRADLEY) received a new rejection letter, so I think I made my
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point.
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# # #
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Copyright 1994 Thomas Nevin Huber, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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Tom Huber is rapidly approaching middle age (50). Involved with
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computers since the early '60's and has been employed as a technical
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writer for a major computer manufacturer for over 12 years. Previous
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works include numerous user, installation, service, & tech manuals, and
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magazine articles. Hobbies include genealogy and running his bbs. Look
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for a major series of SF novels, prerelease title, STAR SPAWN. Many
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shorts are related to the series.
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=======================================================================
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