John opened the journal book, whose cover was the pressing of tree bark, and read
words in his grandfather's hand:
To my loving grandson, John, on his twelfth birthday,
September 12, 2099. You are my greatest gift.
Grandpa George
Along the inside binding of the journal lay a sleek titanium shaft, a Writer, with the
initials 'G.S.' etched into its side.
"That was my Writer, given to me by my father, your great grandfather,
Henry Smith. You don't have to worry about it running out of writing fluid. There's a lifetime
supply of dry ink inside which automatically mixes with moisture drawn from the air to
produce the fluid.
"When the journal is full, push down on these two buttons in the front and back
inside covers. This will cause the writing on the pages to be stored in an internal memory
chip which you can download into your main computer. Once the data has been stored, push the clear button
and the ink will automatically disappear from the pages, leaving you with a blank journal, just like new."
"This is really cool, Grandpa. I promise I'll take good care of it." said John, holding
the gift delicately in his hands.
"I know you will, John. Now let's get a move on. By the look of it, the fog's already hit
town, and walking in the mist always puts me in the mood for some of your Mom's hot chocolate."
"I'm always in the mood for that!" said John excitedly, and with a renewed
sense of purpose, they began their descent.