"Wonder how we ever got kicks out of that old stuff that you couldn't feel?" Brant asked as he placed his arm about Lisa's waist. "Just hearing music doesn't give you any glow."
Brant slid farther down in the chair and stretched his legs out before him. The bluish light in the room glinted from the highly polished surface of his knee length boots. He wore loose-fitting yellow trousers and a black suede shirt split open almost to the waist, revealing his chest.
"Have you tried one of Gil's new pebbles?" he asked Lisa.
"No, what's new about them?" she asked. She wriggled into Brant's lap and rubbed her cheek against his chest.
"They're slaughter. Instead of just getting a deeper feeling from real experiences, you can sit back and imagine something—anything—and you can feel the sensations of your fantasy. You can feel all that way down here, too," he said, touching, in repetition of Lisa's gesture, the pit of her stomach.
"Get me one, Brant. Let's see what goes."
Brant lifted Lisa to her feet and rose from the chair. His boots clicked against the green metal floor as he pushed his way through the crowd of merry makers toward a transparent glass bubble which was suspended from the ceiling by a silver chain. He pushed back the dispenser on the bubble and a cylindrical pill rolled out onto his hand. He carried it back to where Lisa sat swaying to the music which continued to fill the room.
"Here child. This will really give you a dream," he said as he handed her the pill.
Brant watched Lisa sink into the half coma that the sensation pills produced. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Then he straightened and moved across the room to where Gil Patton stood in front of a glass wall which afforded a panoramic view of the entire city.
"Good party, Gil," Brant said to his host.