Read Online With and Without Class by David Fleming - Free Book Online Page A

LOVE! ”
    A hand grasped his chin, “COME ON!”
    â€œThey loved me,” Larry’s wet eyes stabbed, “ THEY CAN’T LOVE THAT THING! ” A hand clenched his white collar as his face flashed crimson.
    Vic motioned for the blonde to sit. “It doesn’t matter about the unit. Business is great. I can afford Larrys in all my clubs.”
    Larry’s collar tore from a clenched hand. His legs strained as he gasped, making a long sound like a car’s engine trying to turn over.
    Vic grasped the blonde’s knee, comfortably.
    She looked to the floor, then back up to the glistening gem on the unit’s hand. “Larry, what did I tell you,” Vic showed his teeth, “Never lose your sense of humor.”

Fast Amnesia
    A lex found himself seated in a crowded train cabin despite the fact that he was dreaming in his own bed and his alarm should have gone off fifteen minutes prior. He wasn’t sure if this was the weekend or if he’d be late to work again. He also wondered how far they were from the next train stop, wherever that was. A few seats ahead, a man in an antiquated waistcoat stood and approached him with his clothes pulsing with an orange iridescence. The man’s frazzled beard and stoic face resembled Dostoyevsky, “You sir…” his face froze as if a glitchy machine, “ Alex Stevens … you’re a,”—he froze—“ man … that appreciates an indispensable product when you see one.”
    The woman next to him turned, her v-neck blouse also pulsing. It was his boss—biting her lip incessantly, like she always did—hiding behind those vintage reading-glasses of hers, “Judging by your recent purchase of… How To Write Suspense Like the Pros , you are a… writer —”
    â€œYou need Fast Amnesia,” the Russian cut in. “It temporarily dims targeted memories.”
    â€œWhy would you want to forget things?” his boss asked. “There are hundreds of uses for Fast Amnesia, but—”
    â€œYou’ll need it to read your fiction objectively and be your own editor,” Dostoyevsky blurted with all the passion of the iconoclast putting the last period on his Notes from Underground .
    â€œBe your own editor!” she agreed.
    â€œWho better to objectively edit your work?” Dostoyevsky pressed, leaning toward him.
    â€œIt’s the next evolution in literature. If you don’t buy, you can’t compete!”
    â€œNot approved by the Neural Interface Administration,” he warned. “May complicate neurological conditions and skew personality matrices, not for children below sixteen.”
    â€œGet yours this morning at your nearest urban market,” she suggested.
    â€œSpecifics of our conversation will become unclear,” he suggested.
    â€œHe’s right,” she agreed. “ Unclear .”
    â€œYou’ll remember the main point but our words will be forgotten… sorry,” Dostoyevsky apologized. “Good-Bye.”
    Alex exited the train into a bowl of soup, floating over beef broth on an enormous chunk of steak. Two naked women—a redhead and a blonde—floated on huge noodles, paddling with oars toward him. They beamed in unison, “ Alex Stevens .” The redhead began, “Ever wonder why you wake up with the urge to buy things you don’t really need?”
    â€œDo you have headaches in the morning and concentration problems?” the blonde asked.
    â€œIf so, YOU”—the redhead’s face glitched—“ Alex Stevens , are having your mind invaded. That’s no joke.”
    â€œNo joke!” the blonde agreed.
    â€œYour mind is like your property,” the redhead continued. “Like a glove, like a shoe. There’s only one way to protect your property: