finalize the
outline as a little reward. 30% will be remitted
after the first draft, and the final 40% after you
deliver the final copy of the novel. I'll give you
some time to look over it I'm sure it's a lot to
take in. I'll be waiting in my office. All you
need to do is sign it and then you can come
collect the advance.”
When he had left the room, I'd noticed that he
hadn't even mentioned the amount. I checked
the document and searched for the payment
section. Once I saw the amount “one million,” I
couldn't not believe it. I shouted to myself “one
million!” Suddenly I was afraid. This is a
dream. It has to be a dream. People do not give
you a million dollars for writing a book. That's
just crazy. But I check if it's a dream. I can't fly,
pinching hurts and I'm not in my underwear.
Everything seems to check out. I can't control
myself. I expected to be paid a lot less than one
million dollars. That wasn't even in my best
case scenario.
I hurriedly read through the
agreement and signed as fast as I could.
Now I am a millionaire. Well, once I complete
the book.
But
wasn't
that
the easy
part?
I
walked like a king to James' office. He looks
like he's having a meeting in his office so I just
decide to wait outside.
I look
around
the
visitor's area. There's a few chairs and a fish
tank, but I don't think there's any fish in it.
And in the corner of the room, there's a man.
And he's taking notes. This time I lose control.
I walk over to him and glare at him.
“Who are you?” I ask.
He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
He's too busy with his notes.
“I asked, who are you? I know you are
following me, tell me!” I shout.
Now he smiles to himself and notes something
else on the page. But he still doesn't even look
at my face.
I shouted again. “Who are you?...”
He doesn't respond. Maybe he's deaf? Who
cares.
He's
following me and
I'm going to
make him stop. Suddenly I grab his notes and
look at that what he is writing down. Oh my
god, he's written down everything about me.
He even knows about the million dollar check.
He is spying on me.
I start tearing the papers and
finally
get a
response from him:
“Don’t do that. I'm the writer of the story. You
are the character and you've just destroyed
your own story.”
Note:
Sorry for the incongruities, I sculpted a writer
character
for
the story,
but
the
character
believes he's the real writer. He argued with
me and
likely
has
destroyed
the story.
He
thinks he's in control, but I am the real writer
of the story.
10 Teleport 2.0
These machines
are my boss'
invention.
While he's an excellent scientist, the world has
never seen him. He doesn't want fame or glory.
Doing research and invention is his passion.
I've worked with him for the last three years as
an assistant and in this time, he's invented
three
things
but
he
never
discloses
his
inventions to the world. Every time he invents
something new, I tell him that he should let
people know about it. But he just dismisses my
advice by saying something like 'this can be
misused' or 'maybe one day, but the timing
isn't right.’ I can't accept that. There's so much
good that can be done for the world, and I
need more and more money. So I stole his
machines last week while he was busy with
some new research. I don't know the science
behind it. But I've operated the machines many
times and I know if other scientists can get
their
hands
on the machines
that
they can
reverse-engineer them. I can't live like a monk
like my boss can. I want money and I want my
hard work to be acknowledged, even if I'm just
an assistant.
Teleportation is
only
a concept
to
most
people. For me, it's a daily reality. I can't count
the number of times I've teleported within the
lab. That's what I stole. I can disappear from
one machine and
appear
in the other
in a
fraction of a second. And I'm going to sell it to
the world.
To monetize it, I prepared a demonstration.
At the same day and the same time, I booked
two
outline as a little reward. 30% will be remitted
after the first draft, and the final 40% after you
deliver the final copy of the novel. I'll give you
some time to look over it I'm sure it's a lot to
take in. I'll be waiting in my office. All you
need to do is sign it and then you can come
collect the advance.”
When he had left the room, I'd noticed that he
hadn't even mentioned the amount. I checked
the document and searched for the payment
section. Once I saw the amount “one million,” I
couldn't not believe it. I shouted to myself “one
million!” Suddenly I was afraid. This is a
dream. It has to be a dream. People do not give
you a million dollars for writing a book. That's
just crazy. But I check if it's a dream. I can't fly,
pinching hurts and I'm not in my underwear.
Everything seems to check out. I can't control
myself. I expected to be paid a lot less than one
million dollars. That wasn't even in my best
case scenario.
I hurriedly read through the
agreement and signed as fast as I could.
Now I am a millionaire. Well, once I complete
the book.
But
wasn't
that
the easy
part?
I
walked like a king to James' office. He looks
like he's having a meeting in his office so I just
decide to wait outside.
I look
around
the
visitor's area. There's a few chairs and a fish
tank, but I don't think there's any fish in it.
And in the corner of the room, there's a man.
And he's taking notes. This time I lose control.
I walk over to him and glare at him.
“Who are you?” I ask.
He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
He's too busy with his notes.
“I asked, who are you? I know you are
following me, tell me!” I shout.
Now he smiles to himself and notes something
else on the page. But he still doesn't even look
at my face.
I shouted again. “Who are you?...”
He doesn't respond. Maybe he's deaf? Who
cares.
He's
following me and
I'm going to
make him stop. Suddenly I grab his notes and
look at that what he is writing down. Oh my
god, he's written down everything about me.
He even knows about the million dollar check.
He is spying on me.
I start tearing the papers and
finally
get a
response from him:
“Don’t do that. I'm the writer of the story. You
are the character and you've just destroyed
your own story.”
Note:
Sorry for the incongruities, I sculpted a writer
character
for
the story,
but
the
character
believes he's the real writer. He argued with
me and
likely
has
destroyed
the story.
He
thinks he's in control, but I am the real writer
of the story.
10 Teleport 2.0
These machines
are my boss'
invention.
While he's an excellent scientist, the world has
never seen him. He doesn't want fame or glory.
Doing research and invention is his passion.
I've worked with him for the last three years as
an assistant and in this time, he's invented
three
things
but
he
never
discloses
his
inventions to the world. Every time he invents
something new, I tell him that he should let
people know about it. But he just dismisses my
advice by saying something like 'this can be
misused' or 'maybe one day, but the timing
isn't right.’ I can't accept that. There's so much
good that can be done for the world, and I
need more and more money. So I stole his
machines last week while he was busy with
some new research. I don't know the science
behind it. But I've operated the machines many
times and I know if other scientists can get
their
hands
on the machines
that
they can
reverse-engineer them. I can't live like a monk
like my boss can. I want money and I want my
hard work to be acknowledged, even if I'm just
an assistant.
Teleportation is
only
a concept
to
most
people. For me, it's a daily reality. I can't count
the number of times I've teleported within the
lab. That's what I stole. I can disappear from
one machine and
appear
in the other
in a
fraction of a second. And I'm going to sell it to
the world.
To monetize it, I prepared a demonstration.
At the same day and the same time, I booked
two
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