Still no internet and since I left everything on Google Drive, I haven't been able to do more editing. However, that does not mean that I haven't been working. I've been thinking that chapter one lacked something. It just didn't seem quite right, just a bit off and that that would influence the quality of the story later. I came to realize that it needed a personality, an identity, so to speak. The world was too similar to our own. Truth be told, I was being shy about it. Maybe timid would be the best word and the worst thing for an author to be. Timidity is the result of self-centered thinking. I was worried people wouldn't like it if I didn't write the way I perceived they would accept. So, as soon as we get internet, I'm doing some major rewrites to the first chapter which I think may make it more interesting. Heck, I may be the only one who likes the changes. Some years down the line, when I'm dead and buried and the epitaph on my headstone says, "Here lies Carl O'Brien, failed author," some future progeny may find, buried among my papers, the original draft of the story and exclaim, "If only that fool had printed this, the O'Brien name would be famous and I'd be rich!" Sorry, future grandson, granddaughter, or grand-cyborg. My bad.