Sophie removed the goggles used to entering her father's virtual reality and reattached them to the small black box next to Laurent. The doctor and the attendant were there trying to look away and give her some privacy. Both had reddened eyes from recent tears. The women were trying to hide their emotion. Sophie did not mind when others had them, she liked it actually. The young teen smiled at how the roles had reversed; her sadness had vanished. Mars would be fun.

"Daddy wants me to watch something, part of the stupid game." Sophie made her way out the infirmary. The safety protocol required the nurse or the attendant to force Sophie to clip on the heavy boots before they could escort her back to her seat. After what they'd just heard, for all these two adult women cared, Sophie should and could fly off by herself to the bar and order herself a stiff martini.

Slipping on the pink boots, Sophie wobbled slowly back to her seat in first-class. She was curious about the round of the game her father had asked her to watch. There was something strange about his words. She wondered how, from his digital world, he knew of current events before she did.

Once back in first-class, her large neighbor, the journalist, was also back in her seat. The lady closed her hand over a little object made of wood and smiled. Sophie ignored her once more. Sooner or later, she would have to work with this lady, but she wanted to delay that intrusion as long as possible. Sophie was a media sweetheart that enjoyed her every break as she could. She knew precisely who this woman was and who employed her. She unclipped the boots, let the attendant grab them, and jumped over the woman into her window seat.

The padded seat felt warm as if someone had just sat in it. The shade over the window was open. She looked outside and saw the darkness. The stars were beautiful. Among the lights, she swore she saw the red firefly again. In a blink, it was gone. She turned to see if anyone in the ship was using some red laser pointer. She knew there was something out there, but she was not frightened. Only curious.

Sophie lowered the shade.

She pushed a button on the panel above her head, and a small compartment slid open between her feet. It was her own personal storage for the trip. She grabbed a new pair of dark glasses, much like the one needed to visit her father's world. She also slipped on a glove. The glasses were old and reliable technology; safe enough for a young brain still under development. As she unfolded the glasses, dark-sided panels clicked into place. The sides protected each eye from glare and filled out the wearer's peripheral vision, enclosing the wearer in the virtual world. The Electoral platform was sophisticated enough to provide each eye a slightly different image, allowing the wearer to benefit from a three-dimensional effect.

The colors were sharp, clear and indistinguishable from the real world. Sophie, as a child, was too young to use the famous zombie contact lenses the adults loved. The small clear disks were placed once on the surface of the eye like a contact lens, but Screenlenzs also had a display on the inner surface. Sophie really had no desire to try them. The dark glasses called, called "Orbisons," were reserved for anyone under age of 20 and that was enough for her. They were named after the legendary rock music icon Roy Orbison, who loved to wear bulky, dark glasses.

Sophie slid on an earpiece, and the Electoral gold-colored glove laced with metal wire wrapped around her thumb and fingers. This glove was only used to navigate the Electoral 2072 world, the game in which her father was now successfully competing. This glove was much more sophisticated and comfortable than the one she'd just used to interact with her father. Navigation in the famous Electoral election system was as simple as pushing the thumb against the other fingers used as joysticks. Pushing the pinky meant a desire by the player to run as fast as possible in the direction pushed. The hand interface was intuitive, at least for those of Sophie's generation.

She stopped the attendant. "How many credits to see Round 7 in the stupid Electoral game?" Sophie knew better than to log in before confirming the price. No one except the young media favorite dated criticize this game.

"Complimentary." Sophie's eyebrows quirked. Electoral's productions were never free. "In first-class, here, all interfaces are free."

"Even Electoral?"

"Yes, especially Electoral. This is her trip, remember. Her name is painted on the outside of this ship. She is kind of inviting you and your wonderful father to her new house on Mars." Ah, thought Sophie. No wonder everyone sitting around her had been playing non-stop for a week.

"I was under the impression Marilyn refused to give free viewings of old simulations."

"Normally, you'd be right, but not on this trip. Remember, she commissioned the whole ship. Everyone but a few passengers are her guests. The rest of your trip will also be free. You can ask her once you enter if you don't believe me. Do you want me to ask her for you?"

"No need. I trust you. I'll go in. I need to see what daddy thinks is incredible." She lit the Orbisons. Entering the Electoral platform was unlike entering any other virtual-reality world. Her father's medical interface was crude in comparison. The color was washed-out, and the resolution was poor. But Electoral was not only about resolution, color or operations-per-second. Interfacing with Electoral was like crossing over to a different reality. Experts said the software used photon-enhancing technology to balance the light received by each eye. The resolution was perfect. There was no way to explain the Electoral experience; it had to be felt. The interface was addictive. Small wonder the Electoral Corporation was so rich even if competing was free.

A retina scan from the Orbisons logged Sophie into her private and personalized account. From there, her favorite human/machine interface was uploaded in the blink of an eye. The software was adaptive. By monitoring the changes in a users' iris, the software knew the preferences and dislikes of customers and adapted the experience until the world was optimal.

Children under the age of thirteen generally met with some variety of talking character or puppet as their guide to the interface. The adults saw Marilyn Monroe, the real personality of the computer. Sophie did not care for that blond idiot, who kept trying to seduce her father even when while she stood there, next to him. She found the computer's personality very distasteful.

***

The digital simulation began. In a matter of minutes Sophie had gone from the Bayou of Louisiana now to a different world. She braced, the game was addictive. As with each time Sophie logged in, she was forced to watch the endlessly long Electoral 2072 jingle as the credits rolled past. At least this time there were no payment menu options. The world changed, and she was finally inside the system.

Sophie was immediately transported to the most beautiful library of a large university. It was twenty levels up and millions of books were plastered up to a distance gothic ceiling. The room was silent and peaceful. The walls, covered by tall wooden shelves, were filled with old yet perfect books. The lights had been dimmed. The simulation was scrupulously vivid, down to crumpled up papers on student billboards and a view of clouded skies through the tall windows. There were no computers here, only large tables in between the shelves where some students were reading thick books and taking notes. Piles of heavy books, stacked precariously, rested throughout the chamber. Sophie felt at home in this environment, and for this reason, the powerful software interface had designed it specifically for her. Doctorate students worked; they were writing on paper with pens. Sophie wished her own school was this way.

This place was lovely, a refreshing pause from technology and that’s why Sophie feared the computer simulation. Everything about it was magical.

The power behind Electoral waited a moment for Sophie to accustom herself to the new world before she began the simulation. A couple of seconds later, the girl heard clicking nails of a dog walking on the wooden floor of the library behind a stack of books. The noise soon filled the room. A long-haired golden retriever turned the corner. The beautiful animal wore a bandanna covered with the Electoral 2072 logo and had a hat with opening for both of its ears. On his nose hung a pair of glasses. The dog's tail was wagging.

Sophie smiled at her friend and quickly moved to him using the finger interface. She loved the childish interface; he was the cutest creature alive. Adults were forced to see a blond woman with large breasts, children could get this instead.

Electro the dog sat, smiled and barked and the girl. Sophie pushed a real finger back in the ship, and her body in the library knew what to do and reached down to pet Electro. "Hi, Sophie! Welcome back to Electoral 2072," said the talking dog. "What are you up to today?" With a twitch from her real hand in the real world, she ordered her digital body to scratch the dog behind its ears. She knew Electro loved it. "So nice!" he said as his rear leg began to twitch. Someone in the library shushed them.

"Electro, I want to see the game played by the President, Round 7. Also, what's the Presidential Challenge, my dad spoke about it.”

"The Presidential Challenge is a fund-raising event organized worldwide," Electro said. "It will be held just after this plane lands on Mars. The simulation is designed to keep the press busy as you and the players settle in the hotel and get used to the low gravity. You guys have had a long trip. The people on your ship can't participate in the Presidential Challenge anyway, but you could since you are not a player, only a guardian. Lots of money to win for charity. Will you be playing it? Watching Round 7 will help you prepare because it’s inspired on that performance by the President."

"No, I don't want to play."

"Why not?"

"I don't have money." The answer was a lie. Sophie did not care about virtual reality. As her father's guardian, she felt like she needed to keep herself grounded in reality.

"That's true. It costs 100 credits. It all goes to charity. I am sure you can find a sponsor, though if you want to play. Marilyn tells me she would offer it." Electro smiled. "The scenario is based on the incredible victory of President Emilio when he played his own Round 7 a month ago. An incredible victory."

She wasn’t excited by the victory. "Someone has to win, no? Why not the President?”

"I guess. But President Sanchez played the round against a lot of people, a lot — a statistical...." he saw she did not know what were statistics and stopped.

"What type of game was it? I love the detective ones." The dog looked around, then licked his flank.

"Sorry, someone smells bad around here, and it's not me," he said. "You are going to love it! It's a fantasy world. Dragons, swords, monsters. You play a powerful magician throwing spells around to defeat an invading army. The magician is called Loric. People have played him before. Electoral gives you so much power; it's just plain fun to select spells, throw them around, and blow stuff up."

"I remember Loric from TV. I saw that character before."

"Yes, Marilyn likes him. She brings him back each election cycle."

"My father wants me to watch Round 7. He says it can help me understand something about President Sanchez."

"He is right. So true. But President Sanchez while achieving the best outcome actually created a boring simulation. He won by using no real visible magic, blew nothing up. You sure you don't want to see someone else's performance?"

"I need to -- want to see it." She knew better than to trust the interface. Electro was cute but Marilyn Monroe controlled it and she was not her fan.

"Okay, from what point of view do you want to see the simulation? I have several options. Do you want to see it as a movie with nice camera angles? Do you want to see it as an invisible observer next standing to the magician, or do you want to see the game as if you are locked inside the body of the magician?"

"Which one is the best?"

"Well, if you want to see how the President picked his spells and how he excels at manipulating the game as it unfolds, you should be inside of him. I don't think you will like that, though, because it spoils the fun. I'd recommend standing as an invisible observer next to him. That would be better. I can also be right there with you as the round plays. Then we can talk, talk, talk! That will be fun, no?" Sophie was unsure if this was what she wanted.

"Am I going to see the original version, the adult version?"

The dog was thinking. His facial expressions were priceless. "Well, you know, the mission was simple: defeat an army using magic. Everyone's magician started casting spells, fireballs, lightning, etcetera, but not the President. You'll find his simulation very boring if you want to see magic."

"He won with no magic?"

"No visible magic. What he did was...."

"Then, that is what I need to see," she interrupted.

"Are you sure? The last scene is very, very..." The dog struggled to come up with the right word. “It's graphic. A part is rated R, for adults only. You shouldn't see it." Sophie almost exploded in protest, but Electro relented. "Just joking. Nothing is R rated for you. You earned that in court. I love you, but I must strongly warn you, the last scene is not for you."

"Trust me, it takes a lot to shock me these days. You know that. Have you seen my dad."

"Then as much as I want to be there for you, if you are looking for the real experience, I would suggest watching Round 7 without me." Electro was right. Sophie agreed, and the simulation began as Electro barked one more time.