FuneralThey gathered together, the rich and the good. Avery's son, Wilson, sat in the front row. It was half a life-time ago since he had last visited a church, religion a minority calling, and the old monuments to a god, ignored and almost forgotten, crumbling. Not many left now, the few remaining ones listed buildings, die-hards from the turn of the century, but most bull-dozed to make way for residential areas. Nobody missed the Sunday morning ritual; the lure of the holo-vision the new religion now, virtual games the opium craved by all. Escape. Nothing else had the same appeal.
Listening to the priest droning on, at one point Wilson turned to Melinda and asked if he could go outside, take in some air. Melinda shot him a glance of pure hatred and Wilson surrendered, sank deeper into t
