A child of nine or ten in front of Kevin clutched excitedly at the sleeve of the woman next to him. "I'm in there, Mom! See me! And I've got a dog! See, he's all black with one white paw! Just like I told you I wanted him to be, Mom!"
The woman answered her son absently as she stared intently into the ball and Kevin wondered what private and personal dream she saw herself living. The Great Golden Ball, as it turned hypnotically on its cable, was providing everyone with a vision of his or her own particular wish-fulfillment. The spellbound audience was happily wallowing in a dream world.
Kevin left his seat abruptly and boarded the lift in the corridor. On the lower floor he searched until he found the entrance to the arena. It was temporarily empty, but soon the robots would be using it as they brought equipment into the arena for the next display. Kevin opened his box and took from it the gaudy costume he had secretly made. Quickly he slipped it over his clothes. He took out a small mirror and, working quickly, covered his face with white powder. As he applied grease paint to his face in bright, bold strokes, a saucy grin smiled back at him from the mirror's surface. He slipped the white skull piece over his head and fastened the red wig to it. One last look in the mirror and he was ready.
Kevin skipped lightly, in spite of his forty-eight years, out into the glaring light of the arena.
Silence greeted him.
He walked about. He skipped. And suddenly fell. He rose, rubbing the place of his contact with the floor, and scanned the floor beneath his feet. Suddenly, he threw up his hands in mock surprise and, bending from the waist, picked up something from the floor. Triumphantly he held it up. It took the audience a minute or two to "see" the imaginary straw, or pin, or whatever it was, that was clutched between Kevin's thumb and index finger. His painted smile beamed on the people before him and seemed to grow larger as a faint titter arose from a little girl in the first tier of seats.
Kevin waved to her.