Infinite (Infinite Timeline Book 1)

It’s a tablet, once considered the go-to device for science fiction stories about the future—my past—but they stopped being used when it was proven they changed brain chemistry, creating a vast societal addiction that reduced productivity and created generations of people capable of ignoring the world’s growing problems.

Tech-jocks used to be called nerds, or geeks, until those terms became honor-badges. We’re not really smarter, we just have a knack for the virtual. For the not real. And I’m not really sure that says anything good about us.

The only things I can see are waves of purple, ebbing and flowing through the absolute darkness. Phosphenes, I think, remembering the technical name for the colorful effect that blossoms to life when people close their eyes. They’re caused by minute electrical charges created inside the human retina, only visible when not being bombarded by visual

Phillip K. Dick, one of the few classic science fiction writers I’ve read, explained reality as, ‘that which, if you stop believing in it, does not go away.’