So, here we are. My old friend John Michel has offered to help me find a new literary agent, and I'm about to begin writing a screenplay called "Misguided Angel" that I've wanted to write for years. Plus, I'm already thinking about the second screenplay I'll write after that, and the next mainstream novel, and the next less mainstream novel too. So I'm anything but down for the final count.
Have I learned anything in all these years? Tons. For one thing, my first two agents weren't so unfit after all - each did the best job she could in trying to sell the novel, and in the end even my third, highly esteemed agent met with the same resistance that the previous two encountered. Second, the publishing business is more a mystery to me than ever. That this book has not found a home has somehow turned in my heart from a troubling fact of life, to something of a testament to optimism, a proud eccentricity, a character-building battle scar of sorts. I suppose that's just how we fragile beings adapt to unrealized expectations, dashed hopes. Still, having just completed my new novel, I'm all juiced up and feeling groovy, raring to give it another go - after all, it's all anyone who decides to try to make a living telling stories can do…try, try again.
Will "Undo" ever find its way between the sheets of pulpy paper and glossy covers? Will it ever find its way onto the big screen, or, if I had my choice, the little screen? And, perhaps most important of all, does this novel really matter to anyone besides me? The first two questions I have no way of knowing the outcomes of - both are in Fate's all-knowing hands and only time will tell.
As for that last question, whether this novel matters to anyone besides me, I can only answer by saying I hope so.
What you're about to read is a novel I have labored over for a very long time. It gives me great pleasure to hand it over, once and for all, to you, gentle reader, whoever, and wherever you are. I hope you like it.
Joe Hutsko 76703.4030@compuserve.com January, 1996
PROLOGUE
It was once a sprawling flatland, dominated by fruit tree orchards and nestled safely between protective hills.
This tranquil scene slowly vanished as trees were felled, concrete poured, and new seeds planted, each the size of a large beetle and filled with thousands of microscopic circuits, sown by a new breed of farmer, with dreams of growing the future.
The new electronic produce, capable of performing millions of calculations in the blink of an eye, was harvested.