Game of Death

The first thing I notice is her face. It is so perfect it seems unlikely that it could ever exist in the real world. Her white skin is flawless, her features perfectly symmetrical, her lips red and wet and full, parting with every gasp. It is her eyes that hold me, though. They are a shade of blue I have never seen, with flecks of gold and crystal, and they are so penetrating it feels as though they are reaching out straight through his eyes into mine, begging me for . . . something I can't quite make out. It's like those eyes have captured the dialectic of every human emotion that ever mattered - love and hate; ecstasy and terror; comfort and jealousy - and rolled them into a single glance that could level entire cities. I am slaughtered. Imagine being able to create and experience your deepest dreams and your darkest fantasies . . . Boston entrepreneur and techno whizz-kid, Nick Caldwell with the help of his long-time friend and...