Ten minutes later, Jack was geared up with his boots, gloves, and weapon, and he held his goggles in his hand.

He stood next to Dr. Tao in the center of the room. She was kitted out, too, and holding her goggles as well. She demonstrated the intuitive hand and finger gestures that functioned as his controllers within the various simulations.

Jack held up one gloved hand, rotating the wrist, flexing the fingers. Perfect. The only thing that ruined the illusion was that his hand floated free, disconnected from an arm. But in a few seconds he didn’t notice that quirk anymore.

“You’ll notice that everything on you is wireless, so it allows for complete freedom of movement. We’re able to accomplish that because we’ve developed optimization software, allowing us to broadcast far more data in smaller packets. Normally, only hard cables can handle the data transmission loads these systems usually require.”

“Wireless is great. I don’t want to be tripping over cables if I’m moving around.”

“Ready to get started?”

“Sure.”

Jack pulled on his goggles and couldn’t see a thing. A moment later, the lights popped on and Jack stood in an all-white room in front of a white table. A red apple sat in the middle of it, and Dr. Tao—or, rather, her avatar—stood on the other side. She was dressed the way he was: gloves, goggles, gun.

“Looks familiar,” Jack said, looking at the apple.

“Pick it up.”

Jack reached for it.

“I don’t believe it.” He felt the apple in his hand, a definite shape and weight. “Haptics in the glove?”

“Micro-actuators are vibrating throughout the glove, making your hand feel as if an apple is in it. We can add temperature to the gloves, and we’re perfecting different tactile sensations.”

“It’s so real I almost want to take a bite of it.”

“Turn around and throw it.”

Jack turned around and tossed the apple. It sailed through the air and hit the white floor twenty feet away.

“Now shoot it.”

Jack glanced down at his holstered Glock. He reminded himself he couldn’t actually see it; he was viewing a virtual representation of the gun on his leg. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the practice pistol—it was real enough, no haptics needed—but the gun and gloved hand he saw were virtual. He raised the pistol, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot exploded in his ears—the sharp, earsplitting crack of a nine-millimeter round. The spent brass cartridge arced out of the chamber and tinked on the floor to his right, and the gun jerked in his hand. The apple disintegrated into pulpy chunks.

“The gun has haptics, too?”

“That’s what made it jump.”

“That was loud.”

“That’s what it would really sound like. Do you want me to turn it down?”

“Better than going deaf.”