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improve the technique, but for the moment the system feeds it directly into your brain; we have to do that for all the more exotic experiences."
    There was a definite edge to that last comment, which Toreth chose to ignore for the moment. "So the sim affects brain function directly, not just through sensory input?"
    "Didn't I say so in the lecture? Perhaps I was a little overtechnical. It's so hard to judge how to pitch an open talk."
    The control panel still hung in mid-space. Warrick returned to it and started some more complicated piece of programming. "The brain can be controlled extensively, and quite safely. If you give me a moment, I'll show you. There. Lift your hand."
    Toreth struggled to do so and found he couldn't even move his fingers, never mind raise his arm. The rest of his body was equally immobile. All he could do was breathe, blink, and speak. "What the hell?"
    "That's a simple disconnect between input and output. Rather coarse, although the control can be finer."
    Suddenly Toreth could move his head again, although his body below the neck remained frozen.
    "The senses are open to fine control too, of course."
    More work on the controls, and the left hemisphere of Toreth's vision simply blanked out. A few seconds later his remaining vision switched into monochrome, inverted, and then the world returned to normal.
    If Warrick thought he was going to scare him into using the code word to get out of the sim, he was sadly mistaken. "Very impressive," Toreth said levelly.
    "Why, thank you."
    Warrick left the controls, which slowly faded away, and went to lean against the post at the foot of the bed. Toreth had to look round to follow him, because he was still rooted to the spot. Warrick had apparently decided to forget this, and Toreth was damned if he'd remind him.
    "In fact," Warrick continued, "a lot of the truly impressive work is done by the brain. Integrating the signals, smoothing out the imperfections. It's a remarkably flexible organ. And it works both ways. With practice it's possible to train the brain to maximally exploit the sim environment."
    "Yeah?"
    "Very much so. For example . . ."
    As far as he could see, the man didn't move a centimetre. But suddenly Toreth felt a hand trace a path down his chest from his collar-bone to his navel, the smooth palm brushing distinctly against naked skin. He looked down sharply, but he was still fully clothed. "How the hell did you do that?"
    "I imagined doing it."
    The hand returned and retraced the same path, more slowly. "The convention of moving the physical representation within the sim is purely that — a convention. With practice, intent alone is sufficient. Practice, and a little creative programming."
    Warrick's voice never wavered from his lecturing tones. A second hand now joined the first, stroking gently up the backs of Toreth's thighs. The experience was utterly real and bizarre beyond belief. The hands kept moving and once or twice he caught Warrick's own hands twitching in unison with their invisible representatives. Warrick's eyes were hot and intent, watching his face for every reaction.
    Toreth felt himself starting to shake, even though the tremors didn't affect his paralysed body. He looked away, trying to gain control of himself. This wasn't at all how things were supposed to happen. A third hand briefly cupped his face, turning his head back. Warrick was squinting slightly with concentration, and then the extra hand vanished.
    "Damn. I can never keep that going for long. An internal visualisation problem, I suspect." Warrick was overarticulating beautifully. "More hands would be so useful, don't you think?"
    Both remaining hands were now concentrating their attentions on his thighs and groin, making it very difficult to shape any kind of answer at all.
    "I think — " What felt distinctly like a tongue ran teasingly down the join between leg and body. He tried for humour. "I think you'll need them to fight off interested corporates. Not to