Not My Kind of Date
"May fourteenth, twenty twelve. Welcome Mister Lostridge." The synthetic female voice confirmed the log-on process. The workstation screen filled with email and scheduling windows. He glanced through the news. Nothing much was happening in the world. Some college professor raising a stink about government hit squads, another miracle drug, some new social reform program. Same stuff, different day. "Three more weeks 'till my ultimate humiliation." Guy Lostridge sighed as he pushed away from...