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You decide to leap off the Flatiron
This has long been one of your goals. I mean, you could both kill yourself AND all the rubberneckers your bloody death will attract.
You pull out your hyper-suitcase and pack it full of the essentials (toothbrush, toupee glue, gold chains, low-buttoned flowered shirt, sock for stuffing in pants). But as you prepare to pick up the neurophone to make your reservations on the next zeppelin, you realize that your cyberpassport has expired. Plus, you've still never seen Cats, so you figure "what the hell, I'll go to New York."
You call up the travel agency and buy tickets for New York. The clerk tells you they will cost one thousand credits, then poses this query to you:
Do you want aisle or window?
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