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The screen shimmered. A soft, warm breeze filled his office, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. He blinked. His armchair was gone. He was standing on a tee box floating on a bed of cumulus clouds. The fairway was a ribbon of emerald green stitched into the sky. The flags below weren't on greens; they were on the peaks of distant, snowy mountains.

Panic struck. He called Leo. “The login! It kicked me out! What’s the password?” skygolf.com login

The next day, at 6:00 AM, Arthur sat in his armchair. He didn't go to the computer. He closed his eyes. He remembered the feel of the light-club in his hands. He remembered the wind on his face. The screen shimmered

For the next hour, he forgot about his aching knee. He forgot about the silence of his house. He played the most impossible round of his life. He drove a ball through the eye of a cyclone over the Pacific. He chipped off the edge of a thunderhead. He putted on a green made of polished starlight. His armchair was gone