'It's just one level. You did it yesterday, you're going to do it today, and you will do it tomorrow.' Flora Fluss looked at the stairs and took a deep breath.

One step at a time, she negotiated the stairs while clutching the handrail. Her right knee only complained moderately about the exercise, but her hips let her know how much they hated it.

She didn't pause at the platform between the floors because that's what old people did. As a 71-year-old woman, she insisted she was capable of climbing the stairs in one go.

'A cooked egg would be nice.'

Flora opened the door to the flat and went straight to the kitchen. She filled a pot with water and took off her hat.

'I could read a book or watch a dancing show. I would love to design a new toaster. I haven't drawn for a long time. Are my markers still working?'

Absentmindedly, she put the cooking pot on the hatrack and her pink hat on the stove. Then, she placed two eggs in it and raised the temperature.

'Where did I leave my aquarelle markers? I think I put them in the bathroom because...why would I put them in the bathroom? Maybe in the hope, the humid environment stops them from drying-out?'

She walked to the bathroom, discovered dirty laundry, and started the washing machine.

While rummaging through the drawers, she discovered a lot of old mascara. 'I could draw the toaster design with mascara. Something like a homage to withering beauty... to withering care... to withering aspirations... to shifting priorities?'

The fire alarm started beeping, but Flora couldn't hear it above the racket of the washing machine.

Two hours later, Flora sat in front of her house and watched the firemen hustling in and out. Dark clouds of smoke no longer drifted out of her kitchen window, but the stink of burned plastic lingered in the air.

"Ma! What happened? Are you okay?" A tall black man in a business suit jogged towards her. After he hugged Flora, he carefully inspected her.

Flora smiled at him. "I made some eggs; they turned out really nice."

She showed him the two eggs, which miraculously had somehow survived the fire. Violet, pink, and black streaks marbled them.

"But I will have to say, sweetie, the next time I'm cooking eggs in a hat, I will use a cotton hat or something organic. I'm almost certain you can't eat these anymore."

"Not funny at all, Ma!" He paused. "But they do look nice, a bit magical even. I saw dragon eggs in the game, which looked similar. But they also glowed."

"I bet I can make them glow … I just have to find a way to stick an LED in there."

"Oh no, you don't. You got me driving your crazy train again. The issue is not whether the eggs are pretty or not−"

"But they are."

"You burned down your kitchen, Ma!"

"It needed renovation."

"Renovation, not destruction."

"You can't innovate without destruction."

"I won't get into a philosophical discussion, " Robby sighed. "especially not with you. You can't live alone anymore. I sent you some links to retirement homes."

"I'm not that old. 70 is the new 60 and 60 is the new 50 and 50 is the new−"

"You are that old."

"If I'm 'that old', then where are my grandkids? Produce some grandchildren instead of playing around with dragon eggs in some game. Inseminate some human eggs." She sniffed.

"I'm not playing around−I'm working."

"Working with dragon eggs? To my knowledge, in this world, there is no recognized occupation called 'dragon breeder'. Besides, I thought you had a security company." Flora remembered attending some office parties. The people she met there were tough folks—ex-military and ex-cops—who looked like they spent most of their time at the gym. They certainly didn't match your typical nerdy gamer stereotype. Flora had difficulty seeing how running a security company involved playing a game.

"In the virtual world, this job exists."

" So, you do what, breed dragons? And who would buy a dragon?" She paused. "Okay, maybe I would be interested in buying a dragon. But not a pixel dragon, a real one. Maybe, I would use it as a mount or play with it or eat it. I wonder what dragon steaks taste like."

"They wouldn't let you eat a dragon, Ma, that would be cannibalism." He grinned at her.

"Oh, you terrible son." She grinned back. "I still don't understand how you make money in a game."

"I shifted my security company gradually into the virtual world. Rich business people want to level up safe and fast. We provide them protection."

"And why are they playing games?"

"In the virtual world, time flows at double the speed of the real world. Therefore, they can work two hours in virtual reality for every hour that passes in the real world."

Flora nodded. She could see the advantages of that. She'd had to meet a lot of crazy deadlines when she was still working as an industrial designer. 'On the other hand, people will start basing their planning on virtual time parameters, so their stress will be the same long term. Time spent with family and friends in the real world will be shorter in comparison to the working hours. Horrible. So the pressure to spend time or the potential gain of spending leisure time in the virtual world increases−it's a vicious circle.'

As Flora stared off into the distance, lost in thought, her son told her examples of how virtual time had impacted all kinds of businesses, like creative jobs, monitoring jobs, even stock market trading. She caught up with him when he turned to mathematics.

"How competent you are in the virtual world depends on your stats, see?" Robby waved his arms, "Stats are the numerical values of your attributes and skills. The fastest way to raise those is through leveling. That's where our company comes into play. We escort the clients on quests and into dungeons so they can get experience and gain levels."

Flora chuckled. 'Quests and dungeons...oh my.' She imagined her son in full knight's armor riding through a BDSM dungeon. "Can you show this game to me?"

"Only videos of it. You need to lie in a virtual reality gaming pod to access it. That's a box filled with electronics." Robby's face lit up the way her own did when she got an awesomely bad idea. "Actually, you can stay in these pods 24/7 if someone else does the maintenance. You could live in virtual reality instead of a retirement home. In VR, you could burn down as many kitchens as you like, and no one would get hurt."

"Radically renovate, you mean. Hmm…" Flora stopped as she considered it. 'On the one hand, I can see him more and pressure him for grandkids. On the other hand, I wouldn't see my grandchildren when I'm in virtual reality.' "Can you get virtual grandkids?"

Robby gaped. "Ma! No! But please consider virtual reality, I would worry a lot less about you. And I want to show you the beautiful scenery in Cetviwos. We could even go on hikes like we used to."

'Plan one: spending more time with Robby underway. Plan two: getting grandkids pending.'

"But brainwave-based virtual reality isn't great for everybody." Robby continued, "I have a high synchronization rate, and there is a genetic component to it. So the chances are good you will do well. However, it might be difficult to adjust to new technology at your age."

Of course, Flora saw right through his attempt to kindle her competitive spirit. Nonetheless, it worked. "No problem, I have worked with a brainwave-based VR CAD System before. It felt great, a bit like magic."

"Brainwave technology is brand-new. CentralTank, the company running the VR World, is the only one who has figured out how to send and receive complex data directly to and from your mind. So it isn't likely your–um … CAT−software was fully brainwave enabled."

"CAD, sweetie, means Computer-aided Design—basically, software for technical drawings. I needed a cheap software when I was freelancing, and they did a promotion for BETA-Testing their brainwave VR technology. My workshop was virtual, and I had an artificial intelligence assistant." Thinking back on her experience, Flora got increasingly enthusiastic. "Are there workshops and AI assistants in this game too? I want to design more toasters! Can you create toasters? If there are no toasters, forget about this VR stuff!"

"The game offers a marvelous workshop for crafting, with full digital assistants. Although I never saw an actual toaster, there are spaceships named Toasters because they look a bit like it. Besides, they get so hot they toast the pilot if he hasn't enough fire-resistance."

Flora grinned. "Great! The CAD system had some fun competitions. For one of them, I designed a toaster-shaped spaceship too. It was just a gimmick. Nobody sane would fly it. The pilot has to get in the slot like a piece of bread goes into a toaster. A hatch closed him in, and the whole opening converted into a thruster. While I added a few side-thrusters for some maneuverability, the spaceship can really only move in a relatively straight line."

"That sounds a lot like the Toaster ships in-game," Rob said slowly.

"Well, you think you have the most creative, unique idea in the world, and then a week later, your competition launches it. Convergent evolution of ideas happens all the time in design."

They shrugged simultaneously. Flora reached for Robby's hand and squeezed it.

"Let's try this VR thingy for a bit. I'll show you I can handle all the modern stuff."

He nodded with a wry smile, but his voice boomed: "Flora Fluss goes virtual!"