people it does." She shrugs. "Maybe that's why it's the only one, I mean, the circuits and apparatus are only on this kind of ship. Mostly it's heart attack; it happens."
"What prevents it?"
"Scanning. And limiting circuits for blood pressure, pulse rate. But it's a freewill choice; there's the risk, part of it is the risk,"
I run my hand along the brown velvet arm of the sofa and ask her if she's tried it, what it's like.
"Twice," she tells me. "It's scary, but... I felt as if I were... toasted; it was incredible and frightening, too, I felt obliterated. I was sick for a week. But God. I couldn't begin to do it justice."
"Though if people die..."
"You know," she says thoughtfully, "they say the deaths have something to do with population control. The managers don't care, they say it's up to Medex. It happens more than they say it does. I think you have to be really healthy, your dosages have to be right, and the scanning... That's what's important. Then it's not a problem, it's just... a special kind of trauma. You never want to come back." She grins. "It's so incredible, your mind is filled with the most exciting things, they seem to grow in there and pile up, and
then
you feel them in every cell of your body...."
"Where imagination is immediately translated into full spectrum sensation," the black man is saying again on the screen.
"Not for
everyone...
." His twin smiles. "But..."
"But riding thePleasureTube without a trip to the sun is like climbing a mountain and not reaching its peak."
"Like leaping from a cliff and never reaching the sea," the woman says.
"Twenty units for twenty-four hours," the man says. "Thirty-five units for two days. The option that is extra but extraordinary. Come with us to the sun."
"Come with me." The woman shows her teeth, she touches them with her tongue. "Come with me to the sun."
What follows is a preview to the hologram, the videon spectacular itself. Collette feeds me two capsules while the screen shows a test pattern. I sit watching; slowly the pattern—dome geometry, hexagons—is becoming holographic, shimmers, then my head, the top of my head, takes off. The images recombine and expand into vivid, electric swaths of pure color.... Intense, lush sounds surround me and something happens to the air: the odor of crushed grapes. I do not know, this has happened in moments, where my consciousness ends and hallucinations begin. In the end—I do not leave the cabin, I am certain, but I feel I have expended enormous amounts of energy—I finally close my eyes and count visions, I lose consciousness, fall asleep.
Awake, I chew cola nuts which Collette slices finely— plum-sized, white and washed red nuts, tart and effervescent on the tongue —she stabilizes my metabolism with another two capsules. Now I am bored, though oddly enough I feel well rested. The videon is showing the most recent WorldBowl clips split-screen. They are playing NewBali now, the game that has replaced almost all others. Sixty players, two soccer balls, fifteen referees—each side of the screen is following one of the balls, the violence is considerable—men kicking at the ball carrier, grabbing at receivers, satellite fights between offense men and defense men. The goal I watch seems to come on a fluke. A powerful kick grazes off a Red NoEast defense man; it was headed out of bounds. NoEast is running away with the game nonetheless; they lead at the half 9-3.
Collette asks me if I will try the hologram. I say of course. I have decided to look into the tolerances myself—enter control that way at the input and see what I can take. Each thing seems worth trying, if only once, if only to see. I wonder if I will ever be here or any place like this again.
Collette tells me that it is possible to pair on the hologram, that the effect is synergistic, but she has never tried it.
"Do you want to?"
She nods slowly, grins. "With a flier? Yes indeed," she says.
For a long moment we both sit there, oddly
"What prevents it?"
"Scanning. And limiting circuits for blood pressure, pulse rate. But it's a freewill choice; there's the risk, part of it is the risk,"
I run my hand along the brown velvet arm of the sofa and ask her if she's tried it, what it's like.
"Twice," she tells me. "It's scary, but... I felt as if I were... toasted; it was incredible and frightening, too, I felt obliterated. I was sick for a week. But God. I couldn't begin to do it justice."
"Though if people die..."
"You know," she says thoughtfully, "they say the deaths have something to do with population control. The managers don't care, they say it's up to Medex. It happens more than they say it does. I think you have to be really healthy, your dosages have to be right, and the scanning... That's what's important. Then it's not a problem, it's just... a special kind of trauma. You never want to come back." She grins. "It's so incredible, your mind is filled with the most exciting things, they seem to grow in there and pile up, and
then
you feel them in every cell of your body...."
"Where imagination is immediately translated into full spectrum sensation," the black man is saying again on the screen.
"Not for
everyone...
." His twin smiles. "But..."
"But riding thePleasureTube without a trip to the sun is like climbing a mountain and not reaching its peak."
"Like leaping from a cliff and never reaching the sea," the woman says.
"Twenty units for twenty-four hours," the man says. "Thirty-five units for two days. The option that is extra but extraordinary. Come with us to the sun."
"Come with me." The woman shows her teeth, she touches them with her tongue. "Come with me to the sun."
What follows is a preview to the hologram, the videon spectacular itself. Collette feeds me two capsules while the screen shows a test pattern. I sit watching; slowly the pattern—dome geometry, hexagons—is becoming holographic, shimmers, then my head, the top of my head, takes off. The images recombine and expand into vivid, electric swaths of pure color.... Intense, lush sounds surround me and something happens to the air: the odor of crushed grapes. I do not know, this has happened in moments, where my consciousness ends and hallucinations begin. In the end—I do not leave the cabin, I am certain, but I feel I have expended enormous amounts of energy—I finally close my eyes and count visions, I lose consciousness, fall asleep.
Awake, I chew cola nuts which Collette slices finely— plum-sized, white and washed red nuts, tart and effervescent on the tongue —she stabilizes my metabolism with another two capsules. Now I am bored, though oddly enough I feel well rested. The videon is showing the most recent WorldBowl clips split-screen. They are playing NewBali now, the game that has replaced almost all others. Sixty players, two soccer balls, fifteen referees—each side of the screen is following one of the balls, the violence is considerable—men kicking at the ball carrier, grabbing at receivers, satellite fights between offense men and defense men. The goal I watch seems to come on a fluke. A powerful kick grazes off a Red NoEast defense man; it was headed out of bounds. NoEast is running away with the game nonetheless; they lead at the half 9-3.
Collette asks me if I will try the hologram. I say of course. I have decided to look into the tolerances myself—enter control that way at the input and see what I can take. Each thing seems worth trying, if only once, if only to see. I wonder if I will ever be here or any place like this again.
Collette tells me that it is possible to pair on the hologram, that the effect is synergistic, but she has never tried it.
"Do you want to?"
She nods slowly, grins. "With a flier? Yes indeed," she says.
For a long moment we both sit there, oddly
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