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similar tobacco product, without the filter, that was longer and thinner than the old-fashioned kind. Nelson’s sister said bacs were the reason he’d never married. He regularly got in trouble with the medical monitors, who routinely fined him for exceeding weight limits. The fees were part of the new world, and Nelson cursed them every time they sucked the funds from his bank account, often enough, since assessments hit anytime someone
emulating his friend’s writing success would likely never happen. Even if he could get a book done, he only wanted to write about life before the Banoff and, for various reasons, those books never sold. “Before you disappear back there, I’ve got some news,” Runit said as they stood in the antique lobby of paneled wood. The base of the grand double-staircase of white and gray marble next to them led to the upper floors. “No,” Nelson moaned as he raised an eyebrow. “They’re closing you down?” “Yeah,” Runit answered, not surprised at Nelson’s guess. The
subterranean level, had been like a home to him. Nelson opened and closed his pudgy fists, as if ready to hit someone, or something. “When?” “I got it across the flash this morning.” “No, I mean how long do we have left?” “Ten days.” “Then the time has come,” Nelson said, pulling out a bac. “I need to show you something.” “What?” Runit asked, waving a finger at the bac before Nelson could light it.
Com, now universally spoken, had replaced all others as the world’s only language. One of the primary reasons physical libraries had died out so easily was that not many people could read the old books without a special computer interface. Everything had been translated into Com and was available digitally. The paper editions were considered obsolete. The prior, now-useless languages weren’t taught in cyber-schools. However, in spite of laws prohibiting it, both Nelson and Runit had learned English from their respective grandparents.
