"Of course, Harry. I just said—"
"I know what you said. Well, look at them then." He waved his hand at the screen. "There it is; the whole world. You can sit right here and view it all—"
"But I want to do more than just view it. I want to live it. I want to be in those places, and feel leaves under my feet, and have rain fall on my face—"
Harry frowned incredulously. "You mean you want to be an actress?"
"No, of course not—"
"I don't know what you want. You have a home, two Full-walls, and this isn't all. I'm working toward something, Flora...."
Flora sighed. "Yes, Harry. I'm very lucky."
"Darn right." Harry nodded emphatically, eyes on the screens. "Dial me another coflet, will you?"
The third Full-wall came as a surprise. Flora had taken the 1100 car to the roboclinic on the 478th level for her annual check up. When she returned home—there it was. She hardly noticed the chorus of gasps cut off abruptly as the door shut in the faces of the other wives in the car. Flora stood, impressed in spite of herself by the fantastic panorama filling her apartment. Directly before her, the studio audience gaped up from the massed seats. A fat man in the front row reached inside a red plaid shirt to scratch. Flora could see the perspiration on his forehead. Farther back, a couple nuzzled, eyes on the stage. Who were they, Flora wondered; How did they manage to get out of their apartments and offices and sit in a real theatre....