Steve had an enter button implanted on the back of his head. Mother immediately dropped to the ground and wept. “How could you? After all we’ve done!” Father was silent. In fact, he never talked to Steve again. Again, Steve knew this was the price to pay. He had a reason. At first it was uncomfortable. It itched, it was hard to sleep, and once and a while, this yellowish green ooze seemed to leak out of the side. In order to stop the constant looking and pointing, Steve regularly wore a stocking cap. Even in the summer he kept his enter button covered. It was easier that way. To most of Steve’s friends it was a bit strange. But they knew Steve must have had a good reason. So, they tried to ignore it as much as possible and keep changing the subject. On Steve’s sixty fifth birthday, he woke up early, had his favorite breakfast and put on his favorite clothes. The time was at hand. At exactly three o’clock Steve took off the stocking cap and looked in the mirror. He slowly reached up and pushed the button.