The flashes from several photographers nearly blinded him. He looked out and could see himself on the screen that was part of the basket ball scoreboa...d that hung down over center court. Looking up at it, he was happy to see that he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. It was with relief when the Provost told him he could return to his seat. Although he did his best to walk in a dignified pace, he kept feeling like he was running. He knew his face must have been blushing a bright red, it. Very slowly. The computer monitoring his vitals was careful. Precise amounts of stimulants were being fed into him at calculated intervals. He rose from the nothingness of suspended animation into a fog of barely conceivable reality. They had warned him about the sensation of dislocation. He had experienced it before in the trials, but those had been days, sometimes weeks in the state they called hypersleep. This time, eleven years would have passed. If nothing had gone wrong. If the hull had. More

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