"What's your favorite screen size? Would you like to play with me?" "600 x 400, 800 x 600, 1000 x 800, it makes no difference to me," he said. "I like you in any resolution, bit-mapped or vectored, but no cable connection tonight. I know you like the speed but I want to take it slow, 28.8 max, we need a land line, I hear the ionosphere is hot." "Netscape or IE?" she answered, slipping on her sensor suit. Biting down on the green adrenaline pill she felt the liquid ooze onto her tongue, kicking up her endorphins so that she wouldn't feel those five thousand tiny needles seeking out her nerve centers, jacking into her body's electrical current. She knew he was doing the same. "If we're going to cross platforms I think Netscape is more reliable," he replied, thinking of layers, her last dance of the seven veils. "My head or yours, whose code shall we inhabit tonight?" she whispered, her last sonal offering,he was awash in her neutrinos now and she in his, there would be no reason to talk. "Mine."She felt rather than heard him, then felt nothing but him, as her chest flattened and her hips slimmed and she found herself/himself, of inseparable architecture. "Your code is so beautiful," s/he breathed, running a finger along his cascading style sheets, his choice of font for the evening. S/he was bold, san-serif, clean and manly.