Katie watched as Aaron took the mic back from his head of development, and opened up the event to Q and A, pointing to reporters who stood and rattled off their questions.

“Is this ready to go? Or are we still talking beta?” asked a reporter in the front row.

“Ready to go,” Aaron said, “We’re taking pre-orders now and expect to be shipping in just under a month. We’ve got rigs set up in cities around the country and overseas that will be opening at midnight tonight, so the public can check out the technology for themselves. For you lucky people, we’ve got banks of rigs installed in conference hall H, two floors up, so if you hustle out of here when we’re done, you can try it out for yourselves.”

Another reporter stood and Aaron nodded in her direction.

“Why Lux for this announcement? E.I. has offices in San Francisco and here in New York, so why do this presentation at a sex club?”

Katie signed the reporter’s question and tried to keep her expression neutral. She really wanted to know the answer to this one. For a technological advance as important as virtual reality, it just seemed tawdry and dismissive to focus on the sex angle so much.

“Well, about that…” Aaron chuckled and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Two things drive technology towards innovation faster than anything else. Anyone want to take a guess?”

The reporter answered. “The military and the sex industry. Are you saying–”

“We’ve had an early version of this tech installed here at Lux since last year,” said Aaron. “Some of you did a few stories on it at the time. That equipment was basic, crude, not even close to what we’ve got for you now, but yes, that endeavor helped us with our research, gave us a lot of data that helped us to improve on the tech.”

“So why focus on the sex industry?” asked the reporter. “Wouldn’t the military benefit from this technology tremendously?”

“Yes.” Aaron nodded. “And they are. In fact, we went to them first, and they’re already using HL2. But that’s not how your average American is going is to experience this tech for the first time. They’re going to use it to shop, to visit with loved ones, to take virtual vacations, to work, and yes, to make love.”

“You really think people will prefer virtual sex to real sex?” asked the reporter. “That’s absurd.”

“That’s an incredibly narrow-minded view,” Aaron said, his expression grim. “It’s also ableist,” he said. “Do you have any idea how revolutionary the internet was for the deaf community?” He strode across the stage and stood just feet from Katie, making a point to gesture to her as he continued.

“It was a game changer. So were smartphones, and the ability to text. Before that, the non-hearing had to use specialized services if they wanted to communicate with the hearing world. The internet and modern technology put direct communication back in their hands. The percentage of users in HyperLyfe who are non-hearing is huge.”

“Okay, but we’re talking about sex, not hearing.”

“My point,” said Aaron, sighing. “Don’t assume your life, your experience is the same for everyone. Not everyone has the same access to, or opportunity for intimate encounters, not everyone–”

“So what you’re saying is that some basement-dwelling mouth-breather in Peoria who can’t get a girlfriend, will soon be able to rent a digital copy of his favorite movie star for sex. Frankly, a lot of people would think that’s disgusting.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and Katie stilled her hands. The auditorium was totally silent, the air thick with the anticipation of what Aaron’s response might be to so bold a challenge.

“As long as the movie star has a contract for the use of her likeness for such a purpose, I see no problem with that. Look, the first ad campaign for HyperLyfe was all about potential.”

Aaron turned back to the screen and pointed. After a split second delay, the first frames of a HyperLyfe advertisement began to play and Katie suppressed a smile. Somebody in the control booth had excellent timing.

“What if you could have the life you've always dreamed of?” Aaron said, speaking the words as they rolled across the screen. “What if nothing and no one, could hold you back? Don’t just wish for it, create it. In HyperLyfe™ the sky’s not the limit, it’s just the beginning.”

Aaron turned back to the reporter. “You’re only seeing the dark side of things. Maybe that guy in Peoria has a physical disability, maybe he’s got anxiety that keeps him at home. He could be a widower in search of companionship, or he’s got some kinky interests that he’d like to explore discreetly. Or maybe he’s simply someone that enjoys technology and sees HyperLyfe as an opportunity to meet like minded people from all over the world.”

The reporter began to speak again, but Aaron cut her off.

“Look, every new technology has it’s pluses and minuses, and there is always someone who will find a way to capitalize on darker human instincts. Hell, there’s all kinds of porn on the internet now. For better or worse, these basic human desires drive tech forward, and really the good outweighs–”

“Mr. Eldridge,” the reporter interrupted. “We shouldn’t be encouraging people to spend time in a fake world. It’s unnatural. It will only lead to a bigger dependence on technology at a time when we should be moving back to our roots, not spending time jerking off in a holodeck.”

Katie signed the reporters comments but her eyes never left Aaron’s face. He was flushed and a muscle in his jaw was working overtime, his hand fisted around the microphone so hard his knuckles were whitening.

“No. That’s not the future at all. That little scene, that depressing gray dystopian vision you have in your head right now? It’s bullshit. I envision a future where technology doesn’t impair our natural world, but enhances it. A sunnier, healthier future made possible by VR.”

Aaron strode to the middle of the stage, and the video on the screen behind him started up again.

“Here’s the future I see.”

Sweeping scenery, glorious, unsullied panoramas of the most beautiful landscapes anyone had ever imagined glided across the screen behind him. Aaron spoke as the vistas played.

“Imagine a young couple, newly married, looking for a new home. They shared their wedding day in VR so that relatives in other countries, or the bedridden could attend. They live in the US, but they find, online, an architect in another country who works with them to design their dream home. They can tour a working, three-dimensional model of the home in VR, and once they approve it, the architect sends the digital plans to their local builder, who prints the pieces of their house, via a large-scale 3D printer, using renewable materials. They buy a plot of land in their local community and put up their house.

They work from home, logging into a VR office to meet with colleagues across the globe. Because they save time on commutes, they travel less and burn less fossil fuels, which has a positive impact on their local environment. This fosters a sense of local identity and promotes community, which benefits local farming and commerce.”

“That’s all very idealistic,” the reporter began, but Aaron held up a hand, stopping her.

“They have children, and when those children are of schooling age, they log into their virtual classroom, and are taught by the best teachers in the world. All well-paid, because a global classroom allows those that are truly called to teaching to reach their full potential and guide their students to the same. The children take tours of outer space, the human heart, and historical places that are too far away to visit, or are located in war zones or that have been destroyed. They can take field trips to the past, and witness history as a living, breathing thing, and they can play together in a virtual environment with children on the other side of the world.”

“And what would be the point of that?” asked the reporter.

“The point? You don’t think fostering understanding and friendship amongst differing cultures is a good enough reason on it’s own?”

“Well who’s to say that would even–”

“That’s the future I see. That’s the good that will come of these technologies. It’s already happening. I promise you.”

“Mr. Eldridge, those are a lot of pretty words but you’re glossing over the negative aspects.” The reporter lifted her chin, the expression on her face defiant. “They’ve already got gaming addicts dying in Korea because they can’t tear themselves away from their virtual identities long enough to eat.”

“Aw c’mon,” said Aaron. “That’s not because of the tech. A person that does that has larger issues already.”

“Oh, no sir,” the reporter said. “Studies have shown that in as little as forty-eight hours someone can become addicted to and suffer severe cognitive damage from–”

“Forty-eight hours?” Aaron whistled. “Wow. That’s an impressive scare-tistic. I call bullshit.”

“Sir?” The reporter’s eyes popped and she looked stunned.

“I call bullshit on your study.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “My team spends forty, sixty, eighty hours a week immersed in our environments with no ill effects. Week after week, month after month. The HL2 experience is our most tested product ever–”

“Mr. Eldridge?” The reporter cut him off. “You claim an individual can spend that much time in a fake environment with no resultant negative impact at all?”

“Yes.” Aaron nodded and stalked to the front of the stage. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. This tech is safe, and it’s remarkable, and it poses no danger. The only danger to an individual that decides to spend time in a virtual environment is whatever might be lurking in their own head. I stand by that, and–”

“Care to prove it?” said the reporter.

“I’m sorry?” said Aaron.

“Prove it Mr. Eldridge. How much time do you spend in HyperLyfe yourself?”

“I’m the CEO of a major corporation,” said Aaron, his expression stern. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Not at all,” said the reporter, and the grin on her face looked to Katie like she was just a little too satisfied with herself. “If you are so certain your tech is safe, if you’re so eager to share it with the world, if you are so confident it will improve society for the better, than you should have no trouble proving it.”

It was obvious now. The reporter had come with the intention of baiting Aaron, and he’d fallen for it. Katie glanced over at Aaron, his cheeks were red. He’d seen it too, the reporter’s grin, he knew he’d been played, but it was too late.

“I’ve got a business to run,” Aaron said. “Countless obligations, I can’t just–”

“But I thought you said business could easily be conducted in virtual reality? I don’t understand your reluctance sir.”

“Fine,” Aaron said, his lips drawn into a tight angry line. “A month. You heard it here folks. Using our rigs, and the new S-Suits, I’ll spend a month in the virtual world.”

* * *

The presentation was technically over, but you wouldn’t know it from the crowd of reporters that still swarmed around Aaron. Katie had kind of hoped she’d have another chance to speak to him before she left, but that didn’t seem likely now.

Aiko appeared at her side and grabbed her hand, dragging her backstage, through a doorway and into an empty hallway.

“Where are we going?” Katie said, trying to keep up with her friends hurried pace.

“You want to see the rig?” Aiko said, stopping to face Katie. “Do the full VR experience?”

Katie grinned. “Of course I do! Can you arrange that? Will they let me up in Hall H with the press?”

“Oh no no no. Forget Hall H. That’s the canned version. A closed simulation with dragons so the reporters can fly around on their backs like Khaleesi. Trust me, the really good stuff, that’s all here at Lux.”