Nancy and Peter both chuckled, and then a moment later a sucking sound came out of my butt as the stood dropped, pulling the plug out of me.“Quick, ...it on the towel,” Nancy ordered, as she put two doubled up at the edge of the bed.“What's that for?” Peter asked.“Butt juice,” she replied.“What?”“Fluids from his butt,” she went on. “Makes a nasty mess if not caught right away.”“I've never heard it called that," he quipped.As I sat on my pad, Peter got up and stood in front of me. I knew I'd be. I didn’t miss commercialism at all. But, I owed it to myself to check it out, I knew from experience how technology could ‘oft gang agley’.Eventually I would visit the Workings Enclaves, and perhaps they were now more pleasant than they eventually could become. I could visit again later, and see how the dis utopia progressed. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I sloughed off and missed a golden age of progress because I was listening to too much gossip or too many historical biographies. There was. More

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