The recently established age of information technology had turned obsolete overnight. All inaccessible things on earth were now meaningless to anyone other than those who possessed them. Passwords were irrelevant, which had become obvious to Rock as he walked across and around actual and metaphorical borders with ease.
There was one at the end of an old pillow on Rock's front bedroom bed, inches from his face, but he was confident he could ignore it. His house seemed filled with gatekeepers, each baffled by a cat named Joe's and his indifference to them and everything else.
At first, this change struck Rock as a pleasant simplification, but he didn't know what he had done the night before. His watch told him it was early Saturday morning, and he wondered if he had agreed to cover a game for the paper that afternoon or evening. He wasn't sure what he was to do this day or where to go to find out.
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