"Bonnie Before The Brain Implants" preview

As some of you
have already noticed I recently published a new novelette, available exclusively
on the Amazon Kindle. And just to give you all a little preview here’s the
opening scene.






Bonnie Before The Brain Implants




Part 1 

Observation

* *
*

 As
some of you have already noticed, I recently published a new novelette,
available exclusively on the Amazon Kindle. And just to give you all a little
preview, here’s the opening scene.









Faking a smile had never been a
problem for Bonnie Neman. As a former, regular fifth or sixth place contestant
of the assorted beauty pageants her mother adored, she found she was able to
maintain a pleasant expression far longer than the average person. In her
running for Miss Teen USA, she even had a nervous breakdown and claimed it as
her talent.

“I can create a
lasting aura of contentment despite the adverse situation of being presented
like some prized pig in a room full of people who honestly don’t care because
Miss Georgia won this façade twenty minutes ago when she first walked on with
slightly perkier breasts than mine.” She then continued to stand on stage for
four and a half minutes, smiling and staring at the audience. Although she had
been disqualified for speaking against one of the other contestants, a clear
violation of rule 27, appendix B, the judges did admit that despite her
comment, they were in fact quite relaxed and felt comfortable for the duration
of her presentation.

Some talent. If anything
it had been a curse. As it turns out, smiling despite the circumstances had led
a lot of men on over the years. From bad dates to random suitors on the street
believing they were having a moment, it was just her natural expression.
Something her mother pushed so fiercely as a child that Bonnie couldn’t help
but show her whites whenever she felt all eyes were on her. Not that it wasn’t
without its advantages. She was the first of her graduating sorority sisters to
find a job, something she felt she owed significantly more to her smile than
any other qualification.

Over the phone she
had told her mother the same line she’d used on all her friends, “The place is
called Exponential Innovations. They’re a privately funded subsidiary that
invents and innovates for of some global conglomerate. Kind of like Thomas
Edison, but with an explosive budget. –I know, not bad for a particle physicist
and biochemist. –And before you say anything, I’m still glad to be working on
something that isn’t my figure. –No, Mom. I’m done with pageants. You need to
let it go. Have you considered the lucrative world of dog shows?”

To herself, alone in
her apartment, standing in the mirror, she faked her smile even to her own
reflection. “The first rung of an infinite ladder,” she whispered. With that
motivation applied, she zipped the side of her navy-blue miniskirt and buttoned
her matching, quasi-jacket/blouse. Stepping into her heels she decided there
was something mildly futuristic about the uniform. Or classical with a futuristic
twist. It seemed reminiscent of the conservative, classic style of Jackie
Kennedy, but then tweaked with a hint of slutty. Or at least if there had been
a line defining what was appropriate and what was not it could be drawn at the
exact height of her skirt.

The futuristic
feature came in the form of her nametag. It was a brass plate featuring a
digital 3D display of her face, faking that same smile and turning to the left
before looping back to center. In front of the animation, her name and job title
were prominently displayed.




Bonnie N.

Tour Guide




Snapping the plate
to magnets already stitched within the fabric of her uniform, she regarded the
animated display of herself with a confused blend of pride and uncertainty.
Only the text and tip of her nose seemed to pop out of the screen. The rest of
her head was sunken within, occupying an illusion of space that was otherwise
filled by the top of her not-quite-Miss-Georgia chest. On one hand, the nametag
was clever by design without being too gaudy. On the other, who in the world
wouldn’t be staring at her breasts now that she had a TV on them?