The spaceship Effugium, from my new anthology of the same name, was the prototype for a fleet of recreational space vehicles. It was refitted and repurposed for a much longer voyage than it was ever intended to embark upon, but in the beginning, it was totally going to be like Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic project, which I actually hadn’t heard anything about in a long, long time.
Always thought it was cool, though, and it’s been in the news again lately. I wouldn’t have heard about it if I hadn’t been making google searches about commercial , because I don’t pay attention to the news. I choose not to dwell upon what Donald Trump ate for breakfast every day and what the resulting farts smelled like. You people enjoy your weeping and gnashing of teeth, agonizing over that dude’s very existence, or conversely, clamoring for a taste of his salty…
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I hear you on the rich person thing.
This book of yours sounds interesting.
I hesitate to call it an anthology. It’s somewhere in between that and a novel, comprised of short stories that jump forward several hundred or several thousand years between each one. I’d written one of them a decade or so ago, shared it with a friend last year who suggested I should write a sequel. I did, and I just kept writing more stories set in that universe until it took on a life of its own.
It isn’t so much rich people for me as much as rich people who get rich by screwing others over.
That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me
Well yes, I see where you’re coming from there.