Virginia, March, 2078, Monday…

Caitlin slowly sipped her coffee and watched the scrolling newsnet, occasionally using her wand to select the "more info" button. Miss Boots sat on her lap nested in the downy softness of her bathrobe. The battles at the three DC monuments were no longer in the news. The nuclear holocaust in South America had been reduced to only a few line items instead of summaries; anything more required the "more info" button. The hot news today was the results of the first round of the NCAA tournament. The news service she had selected seemed to focus more on the cheerleaders than either the results or the players, at least for the "cover stories."

How soon we forget. The world has changed as radically as it did on September 11, 2001, and we pay little attention to it. Last week's news is fast becoming ancient history. By the time she reached work she was thoroughly depressed. All during the drive the images of the cheerleaders kept coming back to her.

Maybe to get a guy you have to have a body like that. And look and act dumb. She kept telling herself that couldn't be true, that somewhere there was a man like Asako's husband who would ignore all the desirable traits that pop culture said his woman had to have, a man who had different and more sophisticated criteria than your average frat boy.