I have so many documents open for the purpose of reading, writing, or editing that I lost track of my own work in progress. As I closed out documents that I was done with, or done with at this time, my eyes fell on what appeared to be the end chapter words of a book, apparently having to do with androids:
“The original advertising company went the direction the food industry had gone: Lab humans were all natural and organic, made from the best ingredients, just like man. Then they took their cues from the medical community, using words such as bio-identical, endogenous, and molecularly adaptable. Then, in a nod to devolution, promo-sapien—then stardust. Finally, They’re real, yo.“
I couldn’t place it. Whose book was this? (I edit a lot of scifi.) As my eyes swept upward, I realized the book was mine, and those were the last words I had written. It was a bizarre wake-up call. Writing styles are like fingerprints, and that is clearly mine. I’m not sure I like the words (come on, They’re real, yo?), but at least now I remember why they exist. They were the start of the next interview section, as the book takes place as a series of interviews between the billionaire who created the androids, known as Minäs, and his granddaughter. So there are two stories taking place, the granddaughter’s present-day story and the granddad’s story of how the world came to be as it was.
There is a lot to juggle in this book, and sometimes I have to remind myself that it was supposed to be humor. Still…They’re real, yo? Oh, brother. I need to become a better conduit for my own work.