"Please enjoy the flight, Mr.Forwarder,​" an artificial voice said at the entrance gate. 

​     "Thank you so much." And, with that, Adam was able to enter the casino itself.

     And it really was magnificent. It was, easily, the most beautiful casino he'd ever been in, and, at one time or another, he'd been in just about every casino on Earth. It had high ceilings, for one thing, on a vessel intended to navigate through space where breathable air would be a precious commodity. To the left, Adam saw where people checked in to get their room cards or whatever. Two giant, winding staircases and a row of elevators rose to the second floor where the individual rooms obviously were. He saw a lot of dark purple. The games were encased in shiny, glittering gold. The middle of the lobby was filled with row after row of slot machines and complicated computer games, many of which were already in use even as the lobby slowly filled with guests. The air filled with the sounds of the slot's beeps and bings. And the lights. There were hundreds of thousands of them in all different shapes, sizes and colors. They outlined every machine. They filled the ceiling like stars, stars that, almost as a single entity, would twist and swirl like swarms of fireflies so that the sky, and the casino itself, seemed constantly in motion. Yet, in spite of the deep purple, the overall feel was one of brightness, of day, not of darkness or night. 

​     "Quite impressive, wouldn't you say?" asked someone to Adam's immediate left. He turned to see that it was Myron Lockyard, one of the four main figures behind the nineties technological surge. Adam'd known him for years. 

​     "I'm quite impressed," Adam had to admit. He turned towards Myron and whispered, "What's going on here, Myron? Who is this Gideon Goldbody?"

     Myron shrugged. "Before noon yesterday, I'd never heard of him before in my life. Before I even received the invitation, I got a call from Clark Church."

​     "Clark Church?"

​     Lockyard nodded. "He said he was going, he'd already gotten his invitation, and he wanted to make sure I was coming, too. Then, ten minutes after I myself received my invitation, I get a call from Vera Lansing."

​     Adam whistled. "Yesterday, within a single hour, it sounds like every rich person on Earth called every other rich person."

​     "I was on my way out of the country. I wasn't supposed to be back in town until sometime next summer. But when General Bill Sturm and Vera Lansing call within the same hour..."

     "General Sturm's taking this flight?" 

     "Adam!" It was a startlingly beautiful blonde this time. "You son of a bitch! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" It was Angelica Abernathy, the cosmetics hostess. She'd inherited nearly two billion dollars some five years before. In fact, that's what the media dubbed her: The Beautiful Blonde Billionaire. "Give me your room number. You and I simply have to spend some time together while we're floating over the Earth. My assistant's getting my room card even as we speak."

                                                       CONTINUE