In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

and dreams. I wonder about your dreams, Dallas."
    So do I, she thought, but she met his gaze blandly. "I'd rather stick with reality. Dreams are deceptive."
    "No, no, they're revealing. The mind, and the unconscious mind in particular, is a canvas. We paint on it constantly. Art and music can add such colors, such style. Medical science has understood that for decades and uses it to treat and study certain conditions, both psychological and physiological."
    She angled her head. Was there another message here? "You sound more like a scientist than a musician now."
    "I've blended. One day, you'll be able to pick a song personally designed for your own brain waves. The mood enhancement capabilities will be endless and intimate. That's the key. Intimacy."
    She sensed he was making a pitch and stopped dancing. "I wouldn't think it would be cost effective. And research into technology designed to analyze and coordinate with individual brain waves is illegal. For good reason. It's dangerous."
    "Not at all," he disagreed. "It's liberating. New processes, any sort of real progress usually starts out as illegal. As for the cost, it would be high initially, then come down as the design was adjusted for mass production. What's a brain but a computer, after all? You have a computer analyze a computer. What could be simpler?"
    He glanced over at the screen. "That's the intro for the last number. I've got to check my equipment before my cue." He leaned in, kissed her cheek lightly. "Wish us luck."
    "Yeah, luck," she murmured, but her stomach was knotted.
    What was a brain but a computer? Computers analyzing computers. Individualized programs designed for personal brain wave patterns. If it was possible, would it be possible to add suggestive programs linked directly with the user's brain? She shook her head. Roarke would never have approved it. He wouldn't have taken such a foolish risk. But she made her way through the crowd to him, laid a hand on his arm.
    "I need to ask you a question," she said quietly. "Have any of your companies been doing under-the-table research on designing VR for personal brain wave patterns?"
    "That's illegal, Lieutenant."
    "Roarke."
    "No. There was a time when I would have ventured into any number of not essentially legal areas in business. That wouldn't have been one of them. And no," he added, anticipating her. "That VR model is universally, not individually designed. Only the programs can be personalized by the user. What you're talking about is cost prohibitive, logistically tangled, and simply too damn much trouble."
    "Okay, that's what I figured." Her muscles relaxed. "But can it be done?"
    He paused a moment, then lifted his shoulder. "I have no idea. You'd have to have the individual's cooperation or access to a brain scan. That also involves personal approval and consent. And then... I have no idea," he repeated.
    "If I can get Feeney alone -- " She swiveled her head, trying to find the electronics detective in the whirling crowd.
    "Take the evening off, Lieutenant." Roarke slipped an arm around her. "Mavis is about to get her spotlight."
    "Okay." She forced herself to push the worry to the back of her mind as Jess settled at his console and gave an introductory riff. Tomorrow, she promised herself and led the applause as Mavis spun onto the floor.
    Then the worry was gone, melted away by the blast of Mavis's energy and her own wild pleasure as lights, music, and showmanship combined in a dizzy kaleidoscope.
    "She's good, isn't she?" She was unaware she'd gripped Roarke's arm like a mother with a child in the school play. "Different, weird, but good."
    "She's all of that." The clashing edge of notes, sound effects, and vocals would never be his music of choice, but he found himself grinning. "She's caught the crowd. You can relax."
    "I'm relaxed."
    He laughed and hugged her closer. "If you were wearing buttons, you'd pop them." He didn't mind the fact that he had to put his mouth on her ear for her to hear him. And since he was there, anyway, he added an inventive suggestion for after the party.
    "What?" She went hot all over. "I believe that particular act is illegal in this state. I'll check my code book and get back to you. Cut it out." She hunched up her shoulder in reaction as his teeth and tongue got busy on her earlobe.
    "I want you." Lust prickled over his skin like a rash, instant, itchy, immediate. "Right now."
    "You can't be serious," she began, but she found he was, fiercely, when