Society of the Mind

around the wide turn a thick white hurdle. It stretched across the track, and just behind it loomed a pool of water.

Laura slowed to a stop, and the pack of runners raced by her. The 'rabbit' far in front of the pack reached the hurdle and leapt into the air, putting her lead foot on the solid wooden barrier and then splashing down into the water on the other side.

'What is this?' Laura shouted over the crowd noise.

'It's the Olympic steeplechase program,' the computer responded pleasantly.

The pack continued their race around the curve, jumping one by one onto the hurdle and splashing water onto the red track all around. The section of the stands nearest Laura stood on their feet and roundly booed and whistled, looking straight at her. She was tempted to shout back at the crowd, but reason prevailed and she spoke instead to the computer.

'Look, when I asked for something different I didn't mean the Olympic steeplechase.'

'How about Mr. Gray's favorite?' the computer asked.

'Football?' Laura replied with obvious sarcasm.

At least she thought it was obvious. The nuance was lost on the computer, and the scene before Laura's eyes changed with dizzying quickness.

A large man in a helmet and shoulder pads stood a few feet in front of Laura. His arms hung loose beside his bulging thighs, but his fingers were wiggling hyperactively over the roar of the crowd in the packed stadium. Laura heard 'Down!' shouted in a harsh bark from her left. She turned and found the source of the sound—'her' team's quarterback. Hulking players on both sides of the line dropped into their stances around a football, and the quarterback's hands went under the center's broad rear.

'Gonna shut you down!' she heard from number thirty-seven, who faced her across the line of scrimmage. Laura stood all by herself far out to one side of the ball. I must be a receiver, she realized as her heart began to flutter in her chest. 'Don't you bring that shit my way!' the man opposite her said without taking his eyes off the quarterback. 'I'll put the hurt on yo ass!'

'Two,' the quarterback yelled, 'forty-seven!' The crowd noise rose to a crescendo. 'Two!' the quarterback shouted again — clearly staring directly at Laura. 'Forty-seven? The quarterback lifted his right heel once and stamped it back down again. Another receiver on her team began to trot slowly behind the quarterback toward Laura's side of the field.

Laura was transfixed by the sights and sounds of it all. Up above she could even see the Goodyear blimp. 'Hut!' the quarterback shouted once, but when Laura looked everyone remained motionless. She wanted to know what was going to happen, but she didn't want to get involved.

'Hut!' he shouted again, but still everyone stayed put. The receiver who had gone in motion trotted in place just beyond the last lineman. 'Hut-hut!'

Everyone around the ball crashed into each other with loud slaps of pads on pads. There were vicious growls from the brutish men, and then the jarring grunts of violent collisions from deep inside their diaphragms. Laura remembered with a start to check the man opposite her. He was backpedaling in a balanced stance, his two forearms up and ready to hit.

'Time-out!' Laura shouted, and the computer readily complied.

Everything in the picture froze, and the roar of the crowd dropped to dead silence with a last burp from the headphones on her ears.

Laura looked around at the still images. The huge linemen were locked in crushing blows. The receiver who had come over to her side of the ball was already several steps up field and off balance from the 'chuck' of a much larger linebacker. The defensive back covering Laura was staring at her with wild eyes wide-open and menacing.

She was almost sick with fear even though she knew they couldn't really hit her. 'Uhm, computer,' she said, swallowing to moisten her throat, 'maybe we can do this some other time. I don't really feel like it right now.'

'But the quarterback is going to throw the ball to you on a crossing pattern. Just run to the twenty-yard line, then take a forty-five degree angle across the center of the field for the end zone. Run as fast and straight as you can. The pass will be a bit high, but within your reach and right on stride.'

'I'm sure it a wonderful game, but I really just wanted some exercise.'

She had turned completely around to look at the enclosed bowl of the stadium. The picture of the crowd in the stands was complete to the smallest detail.

'Would you rather play running back? Mr. Gray doesn't like that position as much because the average gain is under four yards, but—'

'No,' Laura interrupted. 'That's okay.'

'Our beta testers have shown that the typical user achieves a twenty-six percent increase in aerobic conditioning when faced with a regimen of competitive sports simulations as compared to competitive exercise programs.'

Laura heaved a big sigh. 'I think I've gotten enough exercise for the day. Thanks?' She reached up to remove the helmet.

'But you only ran one point two miles. Your earlier runs were four to six miles each.'

'This… it's not really my thing.'

'Do you want to see something much more interesting? Much, much more interesting?'

Laura hesitated, the helmet still on her head. 'Like what?' she asked guardedly, ready to jerk the apparatus from her face if she ended up in some kickboxing program.

'I can't show it to you on the treadmill. You'd have to go to the virtual-reality workstation.'

'This isn't some kind of super-duper football thing, is it? 'Cause I don't like the idea of being trapped inside some macho, testosterone-driven fantasy world of Gray's where you actually get hit by those skeletons.'

'There is a more complete sensory version of 'Pro Football' in the works for the VR workstations, but that wasn't what I had in mind.'

'Well, I'm not gonna get locked into one of those oversized phone booths in the computer center without knowing what you do have in mind.'

'It's not the version 3H workstation I was talking about. I'd have to show you in the version 4C virtual-reality workstations. They are far roomier than the version 3Hs.'

'But I'd be wearing a full-body suit — an exoskeleton — and the door to the room is closed, right? I don't think so.'

'As you wish.'

Laura removed the helmet, stepped down off the tread, and headed for the stairs. She stopped when she came upon the blank wall she'd seen before. If her sense of direction was accurate, the elevator shaft lay behind it. Laura returned to the treadmill and put the helmet back on.

The same introductory instructions about centering the red dots were recited.

'Can I just ask you one more thing? Are you still there?'

'Yes, Laura. What is it?'

'That elevator — the one by the stairs leading to the exercise room — where does it go?'

'It goes down to the lower levels.'

'What lower levels?'

'Down into the mountain. Down to where the Model Eights are.'

Laura took the helmet off and stared at the flat and empty wall.

30

With her hair still wet from the shower, Laura sat down at her writing desk to call Jonathan. What am I going to say? she thought as she picked the phone up.

He answered on the second ring.

'Jonathan.'

'Hi-i-i, Laura.' His tone seemed flat — uncertain — as if he didn't know how to behave.