The snow hits your windshield without mercy. The car’s headlights reveal nothing about the highway. You can only guess where the lanes are, where the shoulder begins, where the exit ramps might be. The blizzard has so iced the road that you crawl along at five miles an hour. Other travelers sit stranded in their cars off the road, lights dimming in the dark. Hours later, you flop exhausted on the bed. Tension tightens your shoulders and forehead. You close your eyes. On the back of your eyelids, everything appears again in startling detail: the swirling snowflakes, the headlights, the windshield wipers fighting the moisture — all in slow motion this very minute. . . . > Modern art objects had aesthetic appeal when the viewer could stand apart from them to appreciate their sensory richness, their expressive emotion, or their provocative attitude. Today, detached contemplation still holds antique charm, as the contemporary scene presents quite different circumstances. . . . Flashbacks, a kind of waking nightmare, often belong to your first experiences with virtual reality. Subtract the terror and sore muscles and you get an idea of how I felt after two and a half hours in the exhibit Dancing as the Virtual Dervish (Banff, Alberta). Even the next day, my optical nerves held the imprint of the brightly colored transhuman structures. I could summon them with the slightest effort—or see them sometimes in unexpected flashes of cyberspace. . . . > Art is coming to terms with interactivity, immersion, and information intensity. Aesthetics—the delighted play of the senses—cannot preserve its traditional detachment. The modern museum with its bright spaces and airy lighting is giving way to darkened rooms glowing with computer screens and hands-on buttons. . . . For hours, you feel a touch of perceptual nausea, a forewarning of the relativity sickness called AWS (Alternate World Syndrome) in my book The Metaphysics of Virtual Reality. Everything seems brighter, even slightly illusory. Reality afterwards seems hidden underneath a thin film of appearance. Your perceptions seem to float over a darker, unknowable truth. The world vibrates with the finest of tensions, as if something big were imminent, as if you were about to break through the film of illusion.