The ideas poured onto a piece of paper. Its flatland of whiteness would soon be covered with fields of possibilities. Amazingly all ideas matched to perfection, all but one. But the writer is a stubborn being. He does not want to waste anything. So the orange rickshaws pulled by zombies were featured in a sci-fi novel. Yes, the editor frowned at the idea, but the exotic element of the Orient was hardly something he would neglect to acknowledge, was it?