Sal had to admit the irony of the situation as he rested his foot on the hydrant that used to function as a switch. He had spent 30 years hurting people and scamming them out of a fortune, so now it was payback time. Sal loved Chicago in the 1930’s. Everything was for sale or for the taking if you were bold enough. Drive-by’s were invented here. Forget to make a payoff or insult the wrong person and it’d be the end of the road. Did I forget to pay off someone? Sal wondered. Some people wanted to skydive if they became terminally ill. Sal wanted to spar with his heroe, Al Capone. With reverse MRI he could enter his custom virtual game world and live like he always had, wild and very bad. The plan had been that Dr. Dickens continued to improve his reverse MRI device, then Sal could play in his dreamworld even as his body wasted away due to the incurable disease he had. The same device that gave doctors a look at living organs gave the mind a sense of real imagery when used in reverse. There’d be no laying in a hospital bed for Sal. He had enough money from his criminal career to pay for a caretaker and finance the Doctor. His house was already equipped with automatic intravenous feeding equipment and other stuff to take care of his personal needs and even electrically stimulate his wasting muscles. Sal knew about cheating and he wasn’t going to be cheated out of an exciting life full of sex and action. With a little luck he’d be having fun with one of the street girls at the moment his real body drew its last breath. But the doctor had warned him reverse MRI was experimental. That was why he worked in secret. He called the software alpha. Not even Beta, whatever that meant. The doc’s son had written it specifically for Sal per Sal’s written descriptions. Sal had never met the young man though his picture rested on the doctor’s desk. It was possible to suffer real pain in the game since everything took place directly in the brain where pain was sensed. Dr. Dickens assured him though that death was impossible. Sal thought about getting shot up to see what would happen but that was like trying to walk out on a plate of glass above the Grand Canyon. Sal remembered the last time he rested his foot on the hydrant that served as his “let-me- outa-here” switch. A couple of Capone’s thugs were running around the corner with murder in their eyes for the way Sal had slapped their girls around in the bar and shot one of their buddies. There was a shout of “there he is!” Sal kicked the hydrant. Nothing. He kicked again and was blinking his eyes at the familiar face of Doctor Dickens. “Any problems?” the gravel voiced man inquired. “It was fine.” Sal headed for the door and ran into the corner of the desk. He picked up the picture of the doc’s son. His failing eyesight made the face oddly familiar. “Don’t let him grow up to be like me,” Sal remarked. “When will this thing be ready for me to take home? This may be the last time I can come here and we don’t want to have you come get me or have anyone else bring me here.” “I could move everything into your house but then you’d need me to operate it. It’s going to be a few more weeks until I can just give you a box with an “on” switch.” Sal grabbed his white tipped cane and left. At home lunch was ready. The caretaker he hired was not only a good cook but good at obeying orders. He didn’t ask where Sal had been. It was after lunch that Sal felt his usual weariness overtaking him. He sank into a comfortable chair and closed his eyes for a moment thinking about tomorrow’s game plan. “Hi,” a familiar female voice said. She was the prostitute that hung out by the bar near the hydrant. Sal looked around in disbelief. He was back in Chicago. “If I were you I’d sceedadle. Al’s boys have been looking for you,” she said. “Thanks,” Sal stammered in disbelief and turned toward the hydrant. He walked over and kicked it, kicked it again and blinked his eyes open. He was in his living room. His first impulse was to call Dr. Dickens. But he hesitated. When Sal thought about it he decided it would be perfect if he could enter the VR world with no machine. He closed his eyes. Three times he entered his virtual playground. Three times he got out. There was no difference with being under the physical machinery. Apparently, the device had changed his neurons to accommodate the entire game as if it had downloaded into his brain. The next day he told Dr. Dickens he was too blind to come anymore, he had changed his mind about hanging out in VR, thanked him and said goodby forever. At home Sal instructed his caretaker to not take notice of any funny behavior if he was having a vivid dream. The man helped him into the special chair and got him hooked into the tubes and wires. “You can go now,” Sal said. “Check on me every couple days but take no notice if I’m still in the chair and having a vivid dream.” The door clicked shut after the man left and Sal sighed and closed his useless eyes. Days may have passed. Sal used his knowledge of Chicago history to get involved in some big operations and had a lot of fun. But once when he was running he decided to check in on the real world. He gave the hydrant a kick and nothing happened. Several more kicks and nothing happened. But the scene changed a little. Instead of ending the program, the glitch was morphing it. 1930’s Chicago was becoming a distortion. He gasped as he saw that the prostitute had taken on the appearance of a girl he had raped a year ago. The full horror took a little longer to sink in. The program was using his real memories from childhood bully to grown up mugger and rapist to add to the scenario. And he couldn’t get out! As Sal ran down unknown streets from the nightmares of his past he tried to think of how long his real body would hold out with the caretaker replenishing his nutrients and other maintenance. His dream world became a payback for all his wrongs. So here he stood steeling his will. It’s all in my head Sal thought forcing himself to remain in position on the hydrant as a thug ran up to him. The brut pulled his gun out. Sal concentrated on making the man disappear. The man grinned with a face just like the doctor’s son. Then Sal remembered. The girl he had raped was the girlfriend of the doctor’s son. The glitch was intentional. Payback. The thug blasted three times then ran. The wounds set Sal’s insides on fire. Tears flowed as the prostitute kicked him and he realized this wouldn’t end until his real body died, perhaps years from now. Unless…Sal tore a shoe off. With blood flying, he beat on the hydrant. Through tears Sal realized he was back in his living room. No blood, only sweat running down his heaving torso. He tore himself free of the life support and quickly opened his safe and stuffed a pillowcase with cash. He grabbed his cane and ran outside for there was little time for all the payback he had to do. Then there was a gun waiting back home with one bullet in it.