Read Progtopia: Book 1 of The Progtopia Trilogy for Free Online Page A

world, it was just entertainment. Even this didn’t push her from his mind.
    He showered, changed, and headed to his apartment to eat his prepackaged food tailored specifically to his caloric and nutritional needs. Once he consumed the stale, tasteless nutrition bar, he sat, but it was not time to reflect. Instead, the VR screen came on with the familiar evening news and commentary. The VR screen was flashing instructions that he had to wear his biometric suit for the evening television shows. He got up and put his on.

Seven
    The Year: 2032
    Camille rolled over in bed. Opening her eyes, she was confused by her unfamiliar surroundings as she realized she was no longer in her run-down apartment. She tried to re-trace her last memories, but couldn’t recall how she got here. Where was she? Getting out of bed, she walked to the window. The floorboards creaked beneath her, the old floor giving way with every move she made. The window overlooked fields used for farming and raising livestock with a dense forest extending for miles to hide the small farm. It was secluded, private.
    Scanning her room, she thought it could be featured in a home-and-garden magazine highlighting guest bedrooms of old farmhouses. It was a simple shabby chic style—a queen-sized bed, multi-patterned quilt, old, white distressed dresser, rocking chair in the corner, and antique furniture. Yes, definitely shabby chic , she thought to herself.
    Trying to recapture her last memory in New York City, she heard a woman’s voice coming closer to her room. If the stranger wanted an element of surprise, the old farmhouse wouldn’t allow it with each step betraying the woman’s position. It was clear, however, the woman was not trying to disguise her arrival. Openly telling someone to be nice and gentle with the new visitor, a wave of panic consumed Camille. What were they going to do to her?
    “Knock, knock,” the woman said as she rapped on the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”
    Frightened, Camille searched the room for an escape route, a weapon—something, anything. Disheartened, she realized there was no exit.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.” With that, the door slowly opened, then was abruptly swung wide by a golden retriever. He ran to Camille, wagging his tail, sitting in front of her, almost demanding Camille to pet him.
    “Bailey, be nice to our guest.” Turning to Camille, “Honey, you must be exhausted and famished.”
    Camille took in the older, gray-haired, plump woman. Comforted by her kind face, warm eyes and smile, Camille’s apprehension waned.
    Placing a pile of clothes and towels onto the bed, she introduced herself. “Camille, I’m Barbara, and you are safe here for now. There is much we need to talk about, and I’m sure you have a ton of questions.”
    As Barbara was trying to introduce herself, Bailey was vying for Camille’s attention, not letting up until Camille started petting him.
    “Looks like you have a true fan there. He’s taken a liking to you,” she said with a grandmotherly smile, “and that is saying something because Bailey doesn’t like too many strangers.”
    Camille, overwhelmed by everything, was glad the dog was helping her relax. “How did I get here?”
    “Plenty of time for questions. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall where you can take a shower and change into a fresh pair of clothes. Once you’re finished, come downstairs, and we can try to answer some things for you.”
    Barbara turned around to leave the room calling Bailey on her way, but Bailey remained close to Camille.
    Picking up the clothes and towels, she made her way to the bathroom. The all-white room with an old, claw foot tub fit into Camille’s fictitious home-and-garden farmhouse edition. Small and unadorned, the bathroom had a working shower, and Camille really needed one of those.
    Letting the water run until it was hot, she got into the strong stream, letting it pour over her sore muscles. Bailey laid