Weary eyes stared blankly into the depths of the high-resolution computer monitor, waiting for something to happen. The monitor stared blankly back. Pupils dilated, fuzzing everything out of existence. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness he heard a clock tell him the time -- 2:00 am. He tried to focus on the monitor, but only saw "kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk" covering the screen. With some effort, he lifted his heavy finger off the key, and the k's stopped. He began to slump in his chair, and his eyes finally closed.

A door slammed, forcing his mind back into awareness. His eyes opened, and he heard the muffled sound of curses and loud footsteps marching down the dorm's main hall in the opposite direction. He yawned and stretched his legs, which had been cramped in a rather awkward position under his computer desk. He couldn't help from snickering -- he must have looked pretty funny, slumped over his computer with a trickle of drool sneaking its way out of one corner of his mouth. The snicker turned into a laugh. He saw all of the k's on the monitor, and began to laugh harder. Somehow at that moment, everything was funny. His collection of techno CDs on the dresser; the psychedelic cover of the latest issue of WIRED magazine on the bed; his "Class of '95" mug from two years before, in high school; the random posters on the walls, from Einstein's green hair to Skinny Puppy -- it was all funny. His life was funny too, in an odd sort of way. He remembered all of the stupid things he had done to quench his thirst for entertainment, like hacking his way into the university's grade records, or playing computer games until morning. He had seen all of the simulators, the "reality" games that were supposed to be better than the real thing. He had finished Destructo 2000, the latest in the arsenal of high-tech, action-packed games for CD-ROM. That one had held his interest for a few months, but it too had become a bore to play. He craved something NEW-- not just a cute new way of doing the same old thing.

He shoved all of the magazines and disks off of his bed and onto the already messy floor. As he got into bed, he began to feel a bit restless. His mind was racing, and he was getting a little too warm to stay under the covers -- he needed to find something to do. He needed something new. He was bored out of his mind, and wanted to DO things -- ANYTHING. He closed his eyes, but he couldn't possibly get any sleep in his current state of mind. Disgusted, he threw back his covers, got back out of bed and moved his computer mouse around. The screen lit back up. Needing to get his mind off of the one track it was on, he decided to get onto IRC. He logged in as "doverb", and the chat program welcomed Benjamin Dover back. He joined channel #cyberpunk, hoping that he could strike up a conversation about the new CyberTronic game series. Among the people on that channel was someone with the handle "fleishe" who mentioned some new Virtual Reality technology. This caught Ben's eye, and the two switched to a private channel and typed back and forth about it for an hour or so. The conversation wandered all over the place, but it was mainly about VR.

It turned out that "fleishe" stood for Erik Fleishmann. He had grown tired of his native land of Germany and decided on a change of pace -- he came to the United States, to work on electronic research and development. He worked for Virtual Innovations, Inc., which was a newly formed company with some newly formed ideas about VR. Evidently they had developed a way to incorporate not only sight and sound into the Virtual experience, but all of the senses, for the entire body. When Erik mentioned this, Ben was reminded of a movie that had come out during his freshman year of high school, called The Lawnmower Man. He also remembered a flick that came out three years later and thoroughly flopped -- The Clergyman -- which shared a similar theme, but had a terrible plot. He chuckled at the thought of a Virtual Preacher. He mentioned this to Erik, and Erik laughed too, explaining that a full body suit like the one used in The Lawnmower Man would be very inefficient, and more expensive than the method used at Virtual Innovations.

Since the refinement of neuro-electrical stimulation in 1995, the people who would eventually form the upper echelons of Virtual Innovations had been working on a way to incorporate the new technology into Virtual Reality. Ben wasn't familiar with the concept. Erik explained that all sensory activity that occurs in a person's body exists, at some point, in the form of electrical impulses. All one needs to do in order to affect a person's senses is isolate the right impulses and decode them, so that they can be reproduced artificially. The theory is beautiful, but in practice, it had proven nearly impossible given the technology of the time. Previously, it has been used in the medical field, where it had been developed. It was used primarily as a substitute for painkiller. What the people at Virtual Innovations did was take this newly developed procedure a step further. Instead of simply suppressing a feeling such as physical pain, they figured out how to completely replace it with whatever they wanted the person to feel. One could see, hear, and feel the sensation of flying through the air, while in fact sitting in a chair wearing a strange metal helmet with wires sticking out of it. This would have caused an uproar if the project had not been kept so quiet, until now. When presented with the results of the research, the government fell in love with the project, and gave Virtual Innovations, Inc. a hefty grant of $50 million to help them out in their noble efforts.

Ben fell in love with the idea, too. When he found out that the company was located in San Jose, he was ecstatic -- he lived in San Francisco. Erik, noticing this avid interest, asked Ben if he'd like to meet him sometime. The reply was an enthusiastic yes. They agreed to meet at the Virtual Innovations building on Saturday, at 10:00 am. Erik gave the directions to the building, and Ben spoke to his computer, telling it to save a transcript of the conversation to disk. They both needed to get some sleep, so they typed their good-byes and logged out of the system.

Ben tried to think of how this new technology might feel, but it was a bit beyond his imagination's reach. His mind was content in the knowledge that he'd have his wish granted to see something new, and he no longer found himself restless. He said, "Lights off," and slipped into his big, warm, soft, comfortable . . . but he had a standard issue, crappy college bed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and must have been imagining that he had a nice bed. He didn't care. He fell fast asleep, and had dreams of Virtual grandeur, of other worlds, and of chasing some guy wearing a funny metal helmet.

Saturday rolled around, and Ben's eyes opened at 6:45. He threw back the covers and leaped out of bed, immediately turning on his computer to check out the text file of his conversation. He printed out the directions and went over to his little kitchen area to fix breakfast. He got a box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs from the shelf and some milk from his miniature refrigerator, throwing some of each into a bowl and nearly inhaling it with the help of a spoon. He paced back and forth for a while, pondering the realms of Virtuality. He was too anxious. He at least had to go there now -- perhaps not do anything, but go there at least. He still needed food. He put on a jacket and rushed out the door with the printout and some magazines in his left hand, and a luke-warm, microwaved burrito in his right. He followed the directions to the Virtual Innovations, Inc. building and was impressed with what he saw. $50 million went a long way. He saw one other car in the parking lot, but it bore an ugly orange and black sign that read, "FOR SALE." He relaxed, opening up his new WIRED magazine. He remained occupied for quite a while.

He was reading an article about neural nets when a car pulled up beside him and a man stepped out. He was about six feet tall, had pale skin, black hair and a beard. Ben rolled down his window and the man bent down to speak with him.

"Are you Benjamin Dover?" the man asked.

Ben held up his finger as he replied, "Yeah. Just a sec." He rolled up the window and got out of his car, locking the door. He and Erik had met at last. They shook hands, and began discussing their conversation on IRC. The entered the building using Erik's access card. The company firmly believed in five-day work weeks, so the only person they saw was the security guard who nodded to Erik. Ben was led through a labyrinth of hallways and offices to a door marked "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" -- and on the next line, "SEC CODE 1-1A". Erik said that this was where the new prototypes were stored. They moved on, Ben receiving what amounted to a guided tour of the place. He enjoyed every bit of it. Erik brought him to a large room with a lot of computer hardware, a few complicated control consoles, and a hollow glass-like cylinder in the middle. The cylinder was about twelve feet high and seven feet in diameter, with an illuminated floor and ceiling. Erik smiled widely as he directed Ben toward the cylinder and proudly said, "Our masterpiece." Ben was impressed. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Erik grabbed a vest of some sort from a hook on the wall and handed it to Ben.

"Put this on and adjust all the straps so that it is snug," Erik instructed. "When you enter the chamber, close the door and the helmet will descend from the ceiling. When you put it on, an intense magnetic field will raise you off of the floor and suspend you in the middle of the chamber. That's why you want the vest snug -- it's holding you up. Being suspended, you can flail your arms and legs to your heart's content without getting hurt." Erik went on to explain that there were hundreds of sensors in the walls of the chamber which monitored the movements of the person inside. The computer then calculated how those movements affected the Virtual Environment, and how the Environment would respond. Additionally, pain inhibitors had been embedded in the program -- if disabled, they would prevent the program from running at all. Ben was mesmerized. He looked at Erik, and Erik asked him if he was ready. Ben could only smile.

He entered the cylinder, and before pushing the "CLOSE" button, asked Erik what he would be experiencing. The reply was, "An artificial, lower-level environment based not on reality, but on the imagination." He closed the door and a helmet slowly descended from the ceiling of the strange tube he was in. It had an odd, opaque visor on the front, and ear covers on the sides. He put it on. A strange tingling sensation ran down his body, and he went completely numb. He was startled and his body tried to flinch, but it couldn't. He couldn't feel anything. All of a sudden, he could feel his entire body again. An incredible view lay itself out before him. He was standing on a strangely unnatural hill in what appeared to be a fractal landscape of some sort. He saw fractal-generated plants swaying in the warm breeze that flowed past him, and a fractal stream wound its way around the base of the hill. In the distance, a fractal dragon hopped around in pursuit of something, fractal flames coming from its nostrils. Everything was a fractal, and everything moved as if in slow motion. It was magical. He looked down, and at least he was not a fractal. He wore rugged clothing he was not familiar with, and . . . He didn't appear to have a shadow. Something tapped him on the shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to find himself facing a fractal man. The man's face came closer to Ben's and uttered some unintelligible garble, then withdrew quickly. The man thrust out his right hand for Ben to shake, and with no idea what was happening, he shook it. He tried to suppress the big grin which spread its way across his face, but he couldn't. This was incredible. He felt like he was in another universe -- though he could see, hear, and feel everything around him, it was all totally alien to him. The fractal man motioned for Ben to follow, and he did. He was led through a tunnel of some sort and up a hillside to a large, earthen hut. The fractal man opened the door and entered, inviting Ben to do so as well. Ben nodded, making his way through the low doorway with a feeling of wonder. In the middle of the hut was a fire, constructed of the same fractal flames as the dragon's breath. Three more fractal people sat around it -- a man and two women. They all seemed friendly, and welcomed Ben with hearty fractal smiles. He smiled back. They started chatting with each other in that bizarre, garbled language Ben had never heard before. Ben found a spot beside the fire and joined them.

Meanwhile, back in reality, Erik sat at a console, monitoring the goings-on in the Virtual Environment. He realized that he had not told Ben how to get out of there once he got in. He leaned over toward a microphone sticking out of the console.

Ben was watching the fractal people in fascination when a giant voice boomed, "BENJAMIN." The fractal people jumped in fright and headed for their crude weapons, falling over things and looking up in horror at the ceiling. It had scared Ben too, and he let out a yelp of surprise.

"Ben, this is Erik," the voice said. "I forgot to tell you how to get out of the Virtual Environment. I can do it from here, or you can do it. Just say, 'Computer, end.' That will get you out safely." Ben sat for a bit, letting the message sink in. The fractal people alternately looked from him to the ceiling, then back to him. He took in a deep breath of the sweet air that filled the hut, letting it out in the form of a long sigh. He had forgotten about Erik, college and the outside world. He had become immersed in his own reality, and Erik had dragged him back into the awareness of that other reality -- the one he was bored to death with. He was no longer in the mood to keep exploring. He nodded to the fractal folk and sadly said, "Computer, end." His body grew numb again as the sights and sounds of the Virtual Environment faded from existence. The helmet withdrew, returning to him all of the sensations he was used to, and he floated gently to the ground. One of his legs had fallen asleep. He opened the chamber and limped out into the chilly air of the control room, which gave him goose bumps. Erik was sitting at the console, smiling. Ben forced a smile in return and expressed his thanks, saying that he needed to get back to San Francisco to do schoolwork. Erik understood, and invited him to chat on IRC again sometime. Erik escorted Ben out of the building, and they said their goodbyes.

That whole week, Ben was a basket case. He couldn't seem to get anything done, and he was incredibly depressed. All he could think of was fractal people and dragons prancing in the distance -- he wanted to go back. The problem was that he didn't want to come back to reality -- this reality. He didn't want to experience that sense of deprivation again, so he didn't go back. He didn't talk with Erik again, either. He couldn't let himself lose touch with the real world like that. Ben didn't want to do anything at all, so he sat down and became immersed in the television.