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With an exaggerated sigh, Kalian flopped down into her chair, the book spread open on her lap. As a rule, she hated reading assignments--but this one was particularly nasty. She couldn't even remember now why the teacher had assigned it; she knew only that it was something about a sorceress and a dragon. If she had to read, Kalian preffered something real, maybe a Net Crime or a cyber murder, not this flibberty-gibbit about magic from five hundred years ago. Oh, well, she decided, flipping to the introduction. Might as well get it over with. She scanned the intro carefully, making sure her implant downloaded the book thoroughly. Much as she disliked rules, she wasn't taking any chances with that particular one; she'd had friends at school who had broken that rule and had to make up things at the end of the book and ended up with entire months of memory erased because of the glitch they caused in the program.     She turned the page and pressed her finger to the small metal plate on the top corner. She felt the familiar electrical sting, and then her vision went staticky for a moment as the program downloaded and booted up... *******************************************************************     She stood in a wooded clearing; The trees and grass around her were very green. To her left was a tall, though not large, house. Its whitewashed sides were twined with a purple-flowered vine--wisteria, something told her. Smoke curled from the thin chimney. A small pond nearby sparkled in the golden shafts of sunlight that escaped through the thick oak leaves overhead. She could see tiny orange fish flitting through the clear blue water.     Resolutely she crossed the clearing and climbed the steps into the house. The living room looked comfortable; a fire burned in the fireplace and lit the space with a cozy glow. The furnishings were wooden, simple but elegant. Moving through into the kitchen, she found the the cook stirring something in a large iron pot that sat bubbling on the woodstove.     "Afternoon, Mistress Eloria," the plump, red-faced woman said, turning to her and bobbing a clumsy curtsy.     That was another thing that annoyed her about these reading assignments: she could never get used to being called by a different name. But that was one more of the cyber-reading rules--you never said anything about your real identity. Though as far as she knew, no one had ever found out what happened if you broke that rule: they'd seen the horrors of deviating from the book plot and evidently decided not to take any chances. At any rate, she might as well try to think of herself as Eloria from now on.     "Good afternoon, Sherry," she said to the cook, the name coming unbidden to her lips, just as all the details did. That was the way interactive books worked; they didn't tell you anything about the book until you needed to know it, and then your computer inplant supplied the necessary information to your brain. The technology that makes it possible is more interisting than the book itself, Eloria thought, disgusted. "Was there any post today?" she went on, as her implant told her what to say.     "No, ma'am."     Very well. I'll be in my room; will you call me when supper is ready?"     "Yes, ma'am.     "Thank you," she said to the older woman, bending to give her a light kiss on the cheek before crossing the kitchen out into the hall. There she mounted the steps of the spiral staircase, almost tripping on the hem of her dark green gown in the process. Darn skirts, she swore, annoyed. But she kept going.     The second floor, she discovered, was all one room and was evidently her bedchamber. It was very large, as was the canopied bed that occupied one corner and the clothes press that took up most of another. On her right, the wall ended about three feet up from the floor, replaced by wide windows shrouded in white curtains. These opened on a splended veiw of the clearing and pond below.     Eloria headed resolutely for the press to examine her new wardrobe when a movement to her left caught her eye. Surprised, she turned--and the first spark of interest lit the dark determination of her mind. She was staring at her image in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall, and what she saw was a far cry from her usual skinny, pale, blonde and grey-eyed sixteen-year-old.     She was taller and probably a couple years older. Lond curls of red-black hair tumbled down her back; the tight bodice of her green velvet gown showed off generous curves she'd never had before.     Eloria turned round and preened a little before the mirror. She'd never been a vain girl, but then she'd never had much of anything to be vain about...