I spent nearly all day today in the Mead. There's something timeless about that portroom, the way it wraps you in its warm black bath. The chair that molds to your body, taps into your momentary comfort needs. I could stay in the same position forever and not get sore. It was never like this with any of the older models, and I'm glad I invested the extra hundred thousand for this year's.

Whoever invented the Mead should have been knighted. Maybe he was, before the royal family was dissolved. It may be the single most influential product this century. A viewing area that will let you see any of the Mead stations in three full dimensions, and at any virtual size you'd ever want. When it was first invented the view was enough. People bought the thing and went inside, transfixed by the clarity and resolution of the hyperdimensional images presented to them. Oh, and the sound quality was quite amazing as well. Now, though. A body can sit in a Mead portroom and just close his eyes, letting the stations rotate by as accompanying smells massage his nostrils. I do that a lot these days, station rotation by smell to find what I'd like to view, and today was no exceptioin. However, I never thought I'd be in there all day. Maybe it I'll suggest that it inform me of the time in the future.

Maybe it's good for me, and maybe it's rotting my brain. That whole debate they had about the television thirty years ago. But it helps me forget how lonely I am, and I guess that's good.

I wish my great-nephew would visit again. I definitely have questions.

Maybe Florence would like to know she has children in the future. No, if she wants that piece of information, she's going to have to vid me.