As they walked through the large doorway Justin could see that the building was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, as was evidenced by a multitude of escalators heading farther down into the Earth. The escalators' destinations were veiled by a thin layer of fog.

They were met almost immediately by a sharply dressed employee who had a button on his lapel that said THINGS ARE LOOKING UP. After they were finished signing in, he checked his holodisplay, then looked up again. "Please excuse me, Mr. Cord, Dr. Harper," he said, obviously excited to be in the presence of celebrity, "just a few more modifications and we'll be on our way ... And by the way, congratulations on your case."

"Thanks," they both answered, then laughed nervously.

The employee continued to mess around with buttons and knobs.

"Just presetting your experience to better accommodate your visit here."

"Ahh," responded Justin, not knowing what else to say.

"And by the way," continued the employee, looking up once again from his holodisplay, "all of us employees here at the VR museum loved how you stuck it to GCI."

"I'm surprised you don't work for them."

"Oh no, Mr. Cord," answered the employee, beaming with pride. "We work for the government."

Justin gave Neela a surprised look.

Neela shrugged. "Not everyone works for GCI, Justin."

Justin looked around, moving on. "Where's everybody else?"

"Everybody who?" asked the employee.

"The rest of the visitors."

"Oh, we cleared them out. Professional courtesy. Plus, the last thing we want is to have you surrounded by a mob of fans for your visit here. I think you may have bumped into the last group on your way in."

"As a matter of fact, we did," answered Neela.

The employee made a few more adjustments and got out from behind his holodisplay. "Right this way, Mr. Cord, Dr. Harper," he said, indicating that they take the third escalator from the left, which was now well lit. Both Justin and Neela got on. Justin, out of habit, began walking down the already moving escalator until he noticed Neela. She'd picked her step, grabbed hold of the rail, and was now leaning against it. Though the escalator was moving slowly, Neela's pall was that of an unwilling passenger being strapped into a roller coaster.

"You go ahead if you want," she said. "They won't start without me."

Justin smiled and climbed back up the steps.

"That's OK," he said, taking her hand. She gave it over, too anxious to argue.

As soon as they were through the clouded veil, things, as the employee's button said, really did start to look up. It appeared that they were descending into an early-twenty-first-century shopping mall, complete with cheerful music and busy shoppers. The only thing wrong with the scenario, noted Justin, was that there was entirely too much cheer for what he knew was meant to be a cheerless place. Nevertheless, he was in it for the ride, and he'd take whatever experience the museum decided to throw at him at face value. He couldn't help but notice a large back-lit sign advertising that the latest in VR technology had just been installed. The sign also indicated how to find the store within the mall.

"We going there?" he said, pointing to the sign.

"Yes," she said, "unless you feel like having a Starbucks." She pointed over at the cafe with a logo Justin recognized.

"You mean I can just stay here and shop and drink if I like?"

"If you like," she said. "But you won't be able to leave until you visit the VR center."

Justin laughed. "Starbucks or hell. You people are too much."

Neela stood silently, waiting for Justin to decide.

His eyes narrowed with shrewd intent. "Let's go to hell," he said.

As they made their way through the mall toward the VR center, Justin struck up a conversation.

"You know, Neela, I might not have liked malls, but this place doesn't really seem all that scary."

"Justin, the mall's not scary ... it's what you can buy here." Justin was already sure this experience would be about as pleasant as a weekend at a Taliban resort, but that last statement unnerved him. It was the old "careful what you wish for" mantra.

"It's also not like any museum I've ever been to," he continued, "unless, of course, this mall here is part of the exhibit."

"I guess you could say it is," she answered, "or it just might be the whole exhibit. You never really know."

Justin looked at her quizzically.

"It's different for everyone," she said.

"Ahh."

After a five-minute walk, they arrived at a large glass-fronted store occupying one hundred feet of mall front. There in front of them was a large sign spanning the windows that read VIRTUAL REALITY BOOTHS, FIRST TEN MINUTES FREE! Not wanting further delay, Justin walked in first and was greeted by an overly cheerful hostess. Neela shuffled in behind him. The hostess looked to be about seventeen or eighteen and had the well-worn demeanor of a high-school kid working her way through a summer job. She welcomed Justin professionally if not a bit stiffly, as is always the case when nonprofessionals are forced to go by a script. At the end of her brief monologue, she made sure to assure both Justin and Neela that they were about to have the experience of their lives. When Justin started to ask questions, Neela gently laid a hand on his arm to quiet him. The hostess took the both of them to another room marked with a sign that read CALIBRATION.

Neela began to shake.

"Are you all right, Miss?" asked the hostess.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she answered, "just a little cold."

"Neela," said Justin, "not only are you not not cold, you're also a terrible liar." cold, you're also a terrible liar."

"I'll be all right," she said in a small voice.

"You plan to go through this again again ... on my behalf?" ... on my behalf?"

Neela nodded. "You shouldn't have to do this alone, Justin."

"Neela, even if we did this together I'd probably end up doing it alone ... I very much doubt they'd let you interfere in my experience."

"I ... I could arrange something ... make sure you weren't in too deep."

"Pass."

"Justin, no adult has ever done this before ... at least, not in my day."

"Stay here, Neela," he answered, ignoring her.

"But-"

"-no buts. You won't do me any good if you're in shock. One of us will need to talk to me with a clear head afterward. You're elected."

"Dr. Gillette-"

"-probably has no idea you were even thinking about this, does he?"

Neela shrugged. "And if he did," continued Justin, "I suspect he'd have your head. No, Neela, it's you I'm going to want sane when I wake up ... again again. And it's only you who I trust to see me through whatever it is I'm supposedly about to go through. Now do me a favor and leave."

In the end it wasn't that difficult to convince her. They stepped outside the store, alone. Neela agreed to wait and Justin suggested she try the Starbucks. "I prefer the nonfat venti latte," he offered, "but I suppose," he said, grinning, "you can go for whole milk in this day and age." She agreed to give it a try, laughed nervously, and then wished him luck. But before Justin could turn around and head back into the VR store, Neela pulled him toward her and kissed him powerfully on the lips. He stood there, stunned, knowing he should have been overjoyed. He'd been waiting for this moment from the time Neela first put her hand on his in the pawnshop. Had fantasized about it even. But not like this. Not this kiss. Neela's look as she pulled away from him and stared sadly into his eyes told him what he needed to know. This was the kiss of the desperate sending a loved one off to war. This was the kiss of someone saying good-bye.

As Neela departed, Justin went back into the store and followed the teenager into the calibration room. There it was explained to him that the process was the equivalent of a head MRI only with much, much better scanners. The reason, he was told, was so that Justin's virtual reality encounter could be a "hyper" experience. In other words, the hostess patiently explained, once the machine knew how Justin's brain experienced sight, sound, taste, and smell, it could better create those experiences by using his brain as the architect and driver of the newly simulated experiences.

"No single piece of pizza tastes exactly the same to two people," she explained. "We might all agree that it tastes 'good,' but until we know what constitutes 'good' in your brain, we can't really give you the ultimate experience. With this machine," she said, pointing to a large box seated next to a recliner, "we can."

It took ten minutes. Basically, it boiled down to Justin sitting in a large, comfortable recliner and having a small dome placed over his head. Once the dome was removed, he noticed that the other couches in the room were all made for children. They were not only smaller; they were also brightly colored and more pleasing to the eye. It was explained to him that his VR rig had been specially installed.

When he was settled in, the hostess departed the room. Now he was alone. He felt tired. His vision began to fade and his fingers and toes went numb. Then his vision ceased entirely and he was effectively blind. Next, his sense of feeling faded away. It was akin to a controlled blackout. But before he could panic he felt something. Very quickly his vision and all his senses came back. But he was not where he had been. In fact, he was not who who he had been. He was a tall, bearded, and very muscular man standing in front of a polished brass mirror. He was half dressed and in the process of putting on a shirt-linen, of course. He looked around and saw that he was in a tent. On a rough-hewn bed was a vivacious dark-haired, olive-skinned, and very naked woman. Justin looked her over. If he didn't know any better he'd have to say that she appeared to be sleeping the sleep of the sexually exhausted. he had been. He was a tall, bearded, and very muscular man standing in front of a polished brass mirror. He was half dressed and in the process of putting on a shirt-linen, of course. He looked around and saw that he was in a tent. On a rough-hewn bed was a vivacious dark-haired, olive-skinned, and very naked woman. Justin looked her over. If he didn't know any better he'd have to say that she appeared to be sleeping the sleep of the sexually exhausted.

"This I could get used to," he said to himself. But the voice he said it in sounded deeper and more menacing than anything he he had ever sounded like. He noticed a riding crop and a sword next to the bed. Deciding to play along, he put them on and walked outside. His chin dropped as he gaped in awe while an an entire army of similarly dressed warriors raised their weapons in salute. Thousands of voices from a chorus of Viking throats greeted him, shouting in unison, " had ever sounded like. He noticed a riding crop and a sword next to the bed. Deciding to play along, he put them on and walked outside. His chin dropped as he gaped in awe while an an entire army of similarly dressed warriors raised their weapons in salute. Thousands of voices from a chorus of Viking throats greeted him, shouting in unison, "Justin king! Justin king! Justin king!" An old, grizzled, yet vigorous-looking man sidled up to him.

"My king," shouted the old man so that all could hear, "shall your men ride today?"

The horde silenced itself, awaiting his word.

"Um, sure," Justin muttered, and then, catching himself, got more into the spirit of the affair. "By the gods, yes!"

The Vikings let loose with another massive roar, and as a man turned to run over a nearby rise. Justin and the old man followed at a manly gait. When Justin glimpsed over the hill he saw a vast plain filled with ... he blinked and rubbed his eyes in disbelief and looked again.

His companion spoke up. "Aye, my lord and king, your father would often do the same thing. It seemed no matter how many times he went to ride, the sight would still fill him with wonder. You are your father's son. Come, my lord, your mount awaits."

Justin blinked again and tried to "see" what his eyes were showing him. Covering the plain in front of him were dragons-thousands of them. Each had a saddle and handler, and many had Vikings already in the saddle, ready to ride. Justin realized what had been bothering him from the second he "woke up." This world he was now in did not feel like a dream. In fact, it was as real as anything he'd ever experienced. The clothes, the hair, the feel of the grass beneath his feet, all of it, down to the scent of jasmine in the air mixed with the distinct smell of ... fire-breathing animals, was real. How could it be this real? How could it be this real? he wondered. he wondered.

They approached Justin's dragon. The attendant bowed formally and handed him a rope that led up to the saddle. As Justin touched the animal's scaly skin, it cooed. The sound was loud and accompanied by a gust of smoke from the great beast's nostrils, but it was unmistakably a coo. Justin was further mesmerized by the sight of the dragon's huge belly heaving in and out.

"A sword for their necks and a fire up their arse," cried the attendant.

Justin ascertained the phrase to be some sort of war mantra. He repeated it back, to which the attendant and Justin's elderly companion responded with a hearty, "Aye."

Justin climbed up the rope and into his saddle. It was simple to put his boots into the stirrups, and as he did so the attendant tossed him a bridle. Before he knew it, the dragon was flying off into the air. He could hardly believe it, but the vision was clear. Justin Cord, Viking king, was leading a squadron of fire-breathing dragons straight into the clouds.

"But what if I don't want to fly a dragon?" Justin shouted out to the sky, wondering if somebody could hear him. His vision immediately began to fade, and his extremities went numb. Soon his mind was again in the black empty void that had begun his journey. What do I do now? What do I do now? he thought. And again, as if on cue, another vision appeared before him. It was dazzling yet simple. He thought he saw ten glowing gems. They spun and glittered in front of him, and he thought that one looked prettier than all the rest. The one that his eyes focused on grew brighter, and in a flash of light, the void Justin experienced faded away as his senses returned. He found himself sitting at a desk in some sort of rustic wooden cabin. He looked down at his hand and saw that he was holding a shiny metal five-pointed star. It appeared to be a badge. As soon as he registered the badge, there was a loud knocking on the door. He didn't answer at first. he thought. And again, as if on cue, another vision appeared before him. It was dazzling yet simple. He thought he saw ten glowing gems. They spun and glittered in front of him, and he thought that one looked prettier than all the rest. The one that his eyes focused on grew brighter, and in a flash of light, the void Justin experienced faded away as his senses returned. He found himself sitting at a desk in some sort of rustic wooden cabin. He looked down at his hand and saw that he was holding a shiny metal five-pointed star. It appeared to be a badge. As soon as he registered the badge, there was a loud knocking on the door. He didn't answer at first.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!" someone cried out. "They need you down at the saloon! Miss Kitty is in a powerful lick of trouble!" Justin got up and found his hat. It was, of course, white.

Justin didn't make the same mistake he'd made in the first fantasy. Which is to say, he didn't repeat the words "But what if I don't want to." He needn't have bothered. The VR machine was calibrated to know when the subject was ready to move on. The only way the fantasy was going to change was when Justin truly wanted it to change. And the second that feeling-not thought-occurred, the fantasy would end. So even though he thought thought he should try a different fantasy, his he should try a different fantasy, his feelings feelings told the machine he didn't want to. For days he ate, slept, shit, screwed, fought, and had fun like he did in real life, only here he was doing it in the Wild West. Finally the day arrived when his thoughts of moving on matched his feelings. His vision dimmed, his extremities tingled, and he was soon back in front of the spinning, shimmering crystals. told the machine he didn't want to. For days he ate, slept, shit, screwed, fought, and had fun like he did in real life, only here he was doing it in the Wild West. Finally the day arrived when his thoughts of moving on matched his feelings. His vision dimmed, his extremities tingled, and he was soon back in front of the spinning, shimmering crystals.

The next crystal that he chose took him to a subtly different program. It faded in like all the others. But this time, Justin realized he he was not in control. He saw and felt all the things that the person whose body he was now occupying saw and felt, but he couldn't control the scenario. Even more to his surprise, he couldn't leave it-couldn't even think it away. Justin saw that he was a good-looking man, because the man he was "being" was shaving in a mirror. He was thin and seemed to be in good enough shape. After getting dressed in an executive suit, Justin was amused to see that the man's name was Preston Sinclair and that he worked for, of all companies, Cord Industries. With a deep shock Justin realized that he knew this man. In fact, he'd hired Preston straight out of college about four years before he'd had himself frozen and buried. As Justin recalled, Preston had been a damned knowledgeable kid who did his job well. From looking in the mirror, Justin figured this Preston to be about forty. What followed was the simple day of a man who was a good quality-control manager of a cutting-edge software-development team. Justin recognized the type: competent, loyal, and willing to work hard, but at the end of the day, more committed to family than career. He was proven correct when he/Preston returned home from work and was immediately pounced upon by two small children-a boy about eleven and a girl around six. His wife was a fun, lively, and flirtatious woman with curly red hair and a smile that could warm an Eskimo. Justin was aware that, while she may not have been a "looker," seeing her at home surrounded by her family made her beautiful nonetheless. So much so that he was finally beginning to understand why this man, or any man for that matter, would put his family first. It was only after a moment that Justin realized his/Preston's wife was noticeably pregnant. was not in control. He saw and felt all the things that the person whose body he was now occupying saw and felt, but he couldn't control the scenario. Even more to his surprise, he couldn't leave it-couldn't even think it away. Justin saw that he was a good-looking man, because the man he was "being" was shaving in a mirror. He was thin and seemed to be in good enough shape. After getting dressed in an executive suit, Justin was amused to see that the man's name was Preston Sinclair and that he worked for, of all companies, Cord Industries. With a deep shock Justin realized that he knew this man. In fact, he'd hired Preston straight out of college about four years before he'd had himself frozen and buried. As Justin recalled, Preston had been a damned knowledgeable kid who did his job well. From looking in the mirror, Justin figured this Preston to be about forty. What followed was the simple day of a man who was a good quality-control manager of a cutting-edge software-development team. Justin recognized the type: competent, loyal, and willing to work hard, but at the end of the day, more committed to family than career. He was proven correct when he/Preston returned home from work and was immediately pounced upon by two small children-a boy about eleven and a girl around six. His wife was a fun, lively, and flirtatious woman with curly red hair and a smile that could warm an Eskimo. Justin was aware that, while she may not have been a "looker," seeing her at home surrounded by her family made her beautiful nonetheless. So much so that he was finally beginning to understand why this man, or any man for that matter, would put his family first. It was only after a moment that Justin realized his/Preston's wife was noticeably pregnant.

Justin had started this crystal upset that he was not exploring Atlantis, or building a pyramid. But by the end of the day he was profoundly happy to be experiencing this man's life. Maybe the VR machine was influencing his hormone levels, or maybe it was something as simple as his never really having had a chance to start a family-his wife's tragedy had seen to that. It didn't matter. Preston, Justin realized, was smart to have put his wife and children first. At that moment Justin would have traded his billions to have what Preston had. Because no one had ever looked at Justin, he thought sadly to himself, the way "his" children now did. The days flew by filled with friends, family, and meaningful work. He discovered that Cord Industries had broken up, and that the part Preston worked for was now owned by the European conglomerate Deutsche Telekom. He spent a while cursing Sebastian after that little piece of news. The old office was physically still like he remembered it, but it was more or less staid. The driving energy he'd spent years encouraging was now gone-replaced by competent complacency. But Preston didn't seem to mind as it gave him more time to spend with his family, and so, in the end, neither did Justin.

It seemed like months flew by. The birth of Justin's first child/Preston's third was something that at least one of them would never forget. Then, two months after the birth, "it" began.

"Honey," Preston called out in a voice that would never command men in battle, "are you feeling up to a trip to the mall?"

"Are you kidding me?" his wife responded. "The mall or a house full of screaming kids? Call the sitter. We're mall-bound."

The trip saw the two of them visiting the same shopping center Justin had walked through in his initial entrance to the VR museum. Glittering trestles and walkways connected to other malls and shopping centers nearby to form a sort of Oz-like city devoted to manic shopping. After two hours of walking this pantheon of shopping splendor, Justin started to get the same tired, played-out feeling all malls engender when the eyes grow weary from one too many BIG SALE! signs. The only thing of interest was the story unfolding with Justin/Preston and his wife. They went into the same VR store Justin had visited ... how long ago? how long ago? ... and paid a week's salary for his wife and him to have an adventure. Only after Preston's wife heard there was a money-back guarantee did she agree to the trip. Justin, through Preston's eyes, saw his wife put the same calibration unit on her head, sit in the same recliner he'd sat down in, and blank out pretty much the way he probably had. Except for her breathing, and that was very, very shallow, Justin could have sworn she was dead. ... and paid a week's salary for his wife and him to have an adventure. Only after Preston's wife heard there was a money-back guarantee did she agree to the trip. Justin, through Preston's eyes, saw his wife put the same calibration unit on her head, sit in the same recliner he'd sat down in, and blank out pretty much the way he probably had. Except for her breathing, and that was very, very shallow, Justin could have sworn she was dead.

Is that what I look like? he thought. he thought.

Justin as Preston went through the VR process ... again.

So, Justin wondered, I'm in a VR simulation, going into another VR simulation. This could get confusing I'm in a VR simulation, going into another VR simulation. This could get confusing. He leaned back down into the recliner, had the array once more placed upon his head, and once more, the world went dark.

This time Justin/Preston was a bigger, more commanding version of himself, now dressed in expensive Victorian day clothes. He was traveling with his wealthy wife and companion. They were in a train car together.

So two people can experience the same VR simultaneously. That makes it very interesting, thought Justin. He had an image of himself and Neela experiencing some VR that was definitely not G-rated. He left that thought as he began to appreciate just how well the programmers of this crystal did in setting up the backstory. There was an April 11, 1912, copy of the London Times Times with a front-page, below-the-bend story on Preston and his wife. According to the paper they were a wealthy and well-traveled couple who had a romantic reputation as explorers. They'd even written a travelogue of their adventures that made them sound like Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones. But the real shocker was that they had passports, documents, and tickets to set sail on, of all ships, the RMS with a front-page, below-the-bend story on Preston and his wife. According to the paper they were a wealthy and well-traveled couple who had a romantic reputation as explorers. They'd even written a travelogue of their adventures that made them sound like Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones. But the real shocker was that they had passports, documents, and tickets to set sail on, of all ships, the RMS Titanic Titanic. Preston and his wife had a debate about whether to go on the doomed vessel. They soon decided the ship would not sink in a VR fantasy and spent the rest of the time being amazed by how real the simulation was. As far as they were concerned, this was reality. They used their precious and well-paid-for time trying out everything. Preston's wife was amazed that her body was near perfect for adventuring, Olympic gymnastics, and general fooling around. Preston, though not a muscle-bound clod, was certainly as finely cut as a human body could get. By the time the train pulled into the station they both agreed that this fantasy was already worth a week's salary.

It only got better.

The station, the port, the press taking their picture as they arrived, the other guests, and of course the first-class accommodations-all of it was spectacular. They were living the world of the Titanic Titanic. And when the infamous night of April 14 arrived they made sure to stay up ... just in case.

They hit the iceberg.

And what should have been a disaster turned out to be the best part of the whole adventure. Within minutes of the episode they were found by a terrified purser, who informed them that the captain wished to see them at once. It seemed that their status as world-famous adventurers earned them the untimely audience. Only instead of the meeting ending in confusion and halfhearted attempts, ultimately leading to tragedy like the real story, this meeting took a different course. This time Preston took charge. He gave Captain Smith a semiprivate, heart-to-heart talk, in which he told him it was his responsibility to get as many passengers to New York as was humanly possible. Even if that meant ripping planks from the deck with his bare hands, tying them together with his intestines, and then kicking the rafts into the cold, dark, unmoving ocean himself. Preston/Justin had no idea if this "damn the torpedoes" approach would have worked in real life, but it seemed to work in this one, as it got the captain out of his fatal funk. Now the captain gave firm orders to the crew to see that all the passengers were escorted to the boat deck. All boats were to leave with the maximum number of passengers, with places at the oars to be given to husbands, and in all other cases women and children first. With the chain of command fully working, the boats were readied, filled, and set afloat. But the amazing part of the adventure was when Preston and his wife got the ship's architect to stop feeling sorry for himself and start thinking of creative ways to build rafts in a hurry.

The highlight for Justin/Preston was the gathering of all the men on deck and a speech that was part marine sergeant and part Henry V Henry V. The oratory was filled with everything from "Yes, some of us might not make it tonight" to "We have a chance if we work together" to "The millionaire is putting up all the survivors in his hotel free of charge for a week." It was magic. The men ripped up planks, tore fire hoses into cording, grabbed doors, tables, and floatable luggage, and made the most motley, harebrained rafts the world had ever seen. If the sea were not so smooth it would never have worked. But this time it did. Because as the bow of the ship started to slip under the water, the deck, now filled with makeshift rafts, simply acted as a platform that allowed the rafts to float away with hundreds of passengers safely on board. The rich and poor worked together, as a spirit of "screw the iceberg" set in. And when Captain Smith insisted on going down with the ship, Preston punched him in front of his officers and told them to put him in a boat. He quickly explained that a captain's first duty was to his passengers, and second to his ship. Since there were now thousands of passengers in need of a captain's experience at sea, his death would have been in vain. He told the still stunned officers that all the oared boats should gather all the rafts together. They agreed, and even more lives were saved. Still, wondered Justin, if it was not a VR simulation, would it have worked? Who cared? It was great.

The next day the rescue ships found the sea afloat with the singing survivors of the Titanic Titanic. Only thirty men had lost their lives-almost all in acts of heroism-and not a single woman, child, or husband was lost. When the survivors finally did arrive in New York it was to a ticker-tape parade the likes of which the world had never seen. The celebrations were astounding, and Preston and his wife were the heroes of the century. What had been a tragedy in real life was made into a triumph of the human will to survive, with all the rich men pledging the money to build a newer, bigger, better Titanic Titanic, and let nature damn well try to sink that.

When the adventure ended, the couple left the VR store in absolute awe. They both agreed that it had far and away been the most thrilling, exciting, life-affirming adventure imaginable. Before they even stepped out of the VR center they were already making plans for their next trip in.

Justin found himself slipping forward now, not experiencing every moment but being brought to specific points in the life of Preston Sinclair. Over the next two years the couple managed three more adventures. Each one was more grand and exciting than the next. And though Justin was having fun, it was always with a grain of salt. Because he was always on the lookout for the red flag that would mark the supposed end of civilization as he knew it. But nothing showed up. In fact, everything he'd seen and experienced was just a series of romps into pure, unadulterated fun.

He also watched in interest as good engineering and fundamental breakthroughs had quickly brought down the prices of the VR machines themselves. He saw that the first home-use VR units cost fifty thousand dollars. In a year they were down to twenty thousand, and two years after that, three thousand. Justin/Preston didn't wait that long to buy his family one.

At first the machine delivered in spades. The family went on tours of the pyramids as they were being built as they were being built and family vacations to Mercury and family vacations to Mercury without suits without suits. But what was nice was having the children taught applied science by Einstein, gravity by Newton, and literature by Shakespeare, who, incidentally, took the children to see one of his plays in Elizabethan London. It didn't take long for Preston to put his kids on the new short-day plan, in which they only went to real real school two hours a day for PE and other group events, and had the VR handle all the academics. After all, the kids could share a classroom in VR with children from all over the world, experience multiculturalism, school two hours a day for PE and other group events, and had the VR handle all the academics. After all, the kids could share a classroom in VR with children from all over the world, experience multiculturalism, and and get a superior education to boot. get a superior education to boot.

The Sinclairs failed to notice that they were drifting out of their friends' lives, and their friends out of theirs. Occasionally they'd meet at work or in the store and make plans, but it almost never worked out. The VR was always, always always more fun. Within a year VR became the only source of entertainment of any import for Preston and his family, and when the price of a machine hit five hundred dollars, it became the only source of entertainment for practically every family in the first world. The real miracle, Justin realized, was not so much that Preston and his wife brought to term their fourth child, but that they managed to find time to conceive at all. He was a child they both loved, but unfortunately, being the fourth as well as being especially needy, put the newborn in direct competition with Einstein, Newton, Shakespeare, and the continuing adventures of Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones. more fun. Within a year VR became the only source of entertainment of any import for Preston and his family, and when the price of a machine hit five hundred dollars, it became the only source of entertainment for practically every family in the first world. The real miracle, Justin realized, was not so much that Preston and his wife brought to term their fourth child, but that they managed to find time to conceive at all. He was a child they both loved, but unfortunately, being the fourth as well as being especially needy, put the newborn in direct competition with Einstein, Newton, Shakespeare, and the continuing adventures of Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones.

And that's when the first red flag showed up.