Gwen seemed about to speak; then she linked anus with him and matched him stride for stride down the hall. Finally, as if she couldn't stand it any longer, she swung him around and kissed him hard. With her hands locked behind his neck she looked dead into his eyes and said in all seriousness, "Adolph, I love you. I really do. But sometimes I could just break your kneecaps."

He smiled at her, and it stayed warm. "Hey, I think this is our room." He clicked his registration card into the slot in the door and it creaked open. From within the room there came a widening beam of dark purple light.

"Holy spit." Ollie pushed the door further open, then stepped in, Gwen close behind. The room was an Edward Gorey opium dream. Dark twisted plants grew meter-high from rudely-stitched planters made of some kind of animal skin. The canopy over the bed fluttered without a breeze. Rain blew against the panes with a sound of crackling bacon. Things moved out there in the dark, and even the shadows on the wall seemed to flux with a strange rhythm. When Gwen looked at the bed closely she could see that the spread was slowly rising to normal level, as if someone had gotten off it the instant before the door opened.

She said, "Wow. This is really..."

"Really what? Come on, don't keep me hanging."

"Hush, I'm being terrorized. This is too much! Ollie, I adore this room." She stood on tiptoe and bussed him. "I'm very glad to be your Significant Other. Let's get the luggage out of the lift and get to bed. Tomorrow starts early."

THE MASTER DREAMERS

The ballroom of the Dream Park Sheraton was completely filled. Bleachers had been set up on three sides of the room, overlooking a conference table set near the fourth wall.

Of the eighteen hundred people in the room, only about fifty occupied the cordoned-off section near the conference table. These were the finalists: those pre-chosen to participate in the Game, and those whose credentials had passed the preliminary screening test.

There was little noise in the room, and no talking at all. All eyes were on the conference table.

Chester Henderson drummed his fingers on the table. His light blue shirt had dark rings under the armpits from nervous perspi­ration, and his eyes darted from the wall clock to the room's main entrance, to the clock, to the entrance. .

He leaned toward the bald man with the roll-top sweater. "Lis­ten, Myers, do I have to put up with this kind of crap? He's twenty minutes late!"

Myers was fortyish, with tobacco-stained teeth and a receding chin hidden behind a sparse beard. He smiled at Chester with the benignity of a suffering saint. "Mr. Henderson, this is Mr. Lopez's Game. While the I.F.G.S. may enter your complaints in the min­utes of today's meeting, I'm afraid that there is no set procedure for censuring a tardy Game Master. If you would care to submit a resolution to that effect at the next meeting...

Chester waved a weary hand in the air and sighed his surrender. "We wait. Metesky, can we at least go over the basic points now?"

The other person at the table was a woman with a stripe of white dyed down the middle of a glorious wealth of gray hair. Age had been kind to her, mellowing the angular facial lines of her youth into softer curves. She moved her leather briefcase a protec­tive inch closer to her chest and calmly said, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Henderson. Mr. Lopez was very specific about that."

Henderson lidded his eyes and silently mouthed further specifics concerning Mr. Lopez, then inhaled deeply through his nose, holding the air down for a long count before exhaling. Temper, temper, he reminded himself. In a war of nerves, your own arsenal can destroy you.

There was a swelling murmur in the back of the room. Chester looked up, trying unsuccessfully to mask his eagerness. Two peo­ple were approaching, a short dark man wearing crisp white denims, and a slight Japanese girl several inches taller. Chester knew the woman. Chi-chi Lopez.

The murmur grew to spontaneous applause, and Lopez turned and bowed grandly. After a moment's hesitation his wife Mitsuko curtsied. Chester had to smile. He had expected that forcing Lopez out of the woodwork would shake the great Game Master. The little man might have been born in front of an audience.

He strode directly to Henderson and extended his hand, a cool and businesslike smile on his face. "I hope my lateness hasn't in­convenienced you."

Chester took the hand and the gambit with the same firm grip. "Certainly not. I'm glad you felt free to take all the time you need to get your Game together."

Lopez nodded curtly, and led his wife to their seats at the other end of the table. There was a barely audible hum, and a "soft" translucent hologram blossomed in the air over the table, greatly magnifying the faces of the five principles.

Ms. Metesky folded her fingers primly and cleared her throat before speaking. "As the representative of Dream Park's Special Projects division, I would like to welcome Mr. Richard Lopez and Mr. Chester Henderson to our facilities. This is a momentous oc­casion, as these two greats of the fantasy gaming world have never before met face to face. Mrs. Lopez is known to us all, of course-" Mitsuko leaned over in her seat and gave a little wave to Chester, who returned it with warmth. "But many of you may not know Mr. Arlan Myers, representative of the International Fan­tasy Gaming Society." The light reflected from the top of Myers' head as he nodded.

"I believe we are ready to proceed. Mr. Myers?"

Myers stood and wiped the corner of his eye with his knuckle. "Good evening. I call this meeting of the International Fantasy Gaming Society to order at eleven twenty-five A.M., Friday March sixth, twenty fifty-one A.D. Tomorrow morning at eight A.M., Dream Park's Gaming Area A will open for the largest and most elaborate Game in the history of the Park. Basic rules will be as follows:

"One. Duration of the Game will be four and a half days, from the morning of the seventh to one P.M. on the eleventh.

"Two. Number of participants, fifteen, with substitutions for killed personnel allowed until the beginning of the fourth day.

"Three. An adjusted Wessler-Grahm point system will be used, with compensations for duration of assault, difficulty of logical problems, and abilities needed. Bonus points will be awarded for bravery, and for dying well.

"Four. There will be a penalty of 50% of accumulated points in case of death, reduced to 25% if the ‘dead' player re-enters the Game as a zombie.

"Five. Players may withdraw from the Game for any reason at a loss of 25%, until evening of March ninth. Players may not withdraw after this point without total loss of points, except for medical emergencies.

"Six. The Game will be conducted for twelve hours out of every twenty-four, which will allow for sleep time, meals, and two half ­hour rest breaks per day.

"Seven. Additional bonus points will be awarded based on a secret ballot vote cast by all surviving and nonsurviving members of the expedition, each member rating all members of the party.

"Eight. The Lore Master has final word on all prospective en­trants to the Game, except for the single Game space reserved for discretionary use by Dream Park.

"Nine. The Game Master and the Lore Master will share any profits accruing from the Game on the basis of an eighty-twenty split of net.

"Ten. The usual good luck symbol-" Myers tapped at his key­board. Glowing curves formed in the hologram overhead, shaping a crescent moon. Myers, smiling as if it hurt, waited for a ripple of laughter to die. "-will indicate the presence of restroom facilities. Look for it in patterns of trees, rock formations, whatever.