Clara's eyes moved between the flashing monitors and the men and women moving swiftly on the green field -- long hair flowing out the back of their silver or gold helmets. If a ball landed in the basket, it rolled down a chute and into a translucent treasure chest, and at that moment, the words and numbers on the monitors changed.

The running on the field, the computer-controled ball, the sound of the band, the green field, the people cheering in the stadium. Never before in her life had she seen something that seemed so clearly: this is what I want to do.