at a cheap, twinkling copy.

I jumped to my feet screaming inhumanly into the air. I remembered the feeling of peace that came over me the other night and cried, knowing that no such feeling existed, scolding myself for being such a fool. I knew I hadn’t asked any stupid ghost or alien for an answer. I knew that no such things existed, and that no one could hear me. I knew that the only difference between fake-DR and real-SR was the bill they sent me for time spent.

I clenched my eyes, unwilling to perceive fake grass, stars, and oceans. I could only see the construct for what it was: a wheeled computer program. I knew that, whatever reality really was, it wouldn’t let me stay there any more. The game was ending.

I slowly moved my hand to my descender, becoming more aware that everything of value to me was down below, down in the world I called Standard Reality.

- -- -- - - -- -- - -- - - --- - --- --

I cursed when the booth’s panel only buzzed at me, kicking the door from the inside until it offlined itself. I stepped into the hallway and waited for the fog to clear in my head, and for my eyes to stop burning in the dim lighting. I was as hungry as I always was after thirty-two hours ascended, but I decided that I could wait until I got to the beach.

The outside air beckoned to me as I walked into the lobby. A few kids in full slunk-foamer regalia looked up and began to shout among themselves about who would get the vacated booth.

“I hope you enjoyed your experience, Mister Dauphin. You’ll be happy to know that tonight’s charge of fifty-five-forty-four ninety fulfills your Economic Stimulus requirement for this year.”

I scratched my eyes, rubbing the sleep out. “Well, that’s good. Not a moment too soon, eh?”

She laughed. It was a laugh that sounded far too familiar. I looked and realized that the usual grouchy man wasn’t watching the store.

“Thank you