"You'll be needing this," the Clown said, and snapped a tubular object 
into the palm of Hackworth's hand. Hackworth was just recognizing it as some 
kind of torch when something loud and violent happened just below him. His 
feet, which had been resting on the deckplates, were now dangling in air. In 
fact, all of him was dangling. A trapdoor had flown open beneath him, and he 
was in free fall. "Enjoy the show," the Clown said, tipping his hat and 
peering down at him through a rapidly diminishing square hole. "And while 
you're accelerating toward the center of the earth at nine point eight meters 
per second squared, riddle me this: We can fake sounds, we can fake images, we 
can even fake the wind blowing over your face, but how do we fake the sensation 
of free fall?"