The new blue Odense University van stood waiting, packed with computer equipment, boxes of i3 publicity leaflets, folders, posters, small cards and folding cards, a computer, screen and equipment,, and, last but not least, one brightly-coloured batter y-operated parrot which, the sales assistant confidently assured me, would repeat everything we said to her. Finally, Masood and I climbed into the front seats to start the long drive to EITC´97...

In Brussels we headed for the Rue des Sols 19, the unloading bay for the Palais des Congrès, and started hauling our computers and boxes into the exhibition area. The place was full of well-known email numbers walking around in human shape. Peter.KATZ@dg3.cec.be was at the desk. "Peter! At last! It's you! I'm Helen @ mip! Karin! Chrissa!"

The World Generator screen was already installed at the far end of its sable-swathed inner sanctum and was undergoing its last tests and adjustments. The "back room" behind it was a snake's nest of cables and wires.

Frantically we worked to convert our bare and empty stand from a dentist's waiting room lookalike into an exciting centre of i3 attraction. Then the huge Hoynck wall panels arrived - depicting i3 logos, information and Marco's galaxy map of projects - and the stand was transformed. We laid out the publicity cards in rosettes, our parrot was perched beside Walter's parrot. AMUSEMENT, HIPS, POPULATE, Magic Lounge, COMRIS, eRENA, eSCAPE and i3net were ready for visitors.

The word went round - Bill Seaman was expected to come and demonstrate his Generator - on Monday only. I rushed to the Press room, talked to Alasdair Crewe, the press officer, and left messages and leaflets. The Press came and filmed our stand. Bill s tayed on until Tuesday.

I approached the Generator, nervously. "Have a Fisherman's Friend," Bill said, reassuringly. I sat down and began the process of world creation. Beautiful shapes started floating slowly across the screen in a blue sky. Branching white trees, words as s olid objects, chairs and walking sticks swung weightlessly across the screen. A flickering avatar appeared out of thin air, moving independently. "That's the boys from Karlsruhe coming in now", said Bill. I was entranced. A deep feeling of calm and peace gradually flowed into my mind - I did not know from where. My conscious mind was preoccupied with manipulating the visual shapes, and for while the music remained at the subconscious level, but gradually it insinuated itself into my consciousness until th e aural and the visual experiences crescendoed and fused... afterwards, there was a feeling of mental harmony and wellbeing as though I had been in a deep meditation.

Our battery-powered parrot uttered the single sentence "I am a COMRIS parrot", flapped her wings twice, and was struck instantly dumb. We tried verbal cajoling and manual coercion, but to no avail. She remained stubbornly silent for the duration of the whole three days of the Exhibition. The entire combined technical expertise of Intelligent Information Interfaces could not get a peep out of the bird. Grimly, I rehearsed in my mind the scenario for my return visit to the toyshop with the ex-parrot.

Groups of schoolchildren wandered around nonchalantly looking fashionably bored...until they caught sight of our Aladdin's cave full of Marco's blue galaxy origami cards.

Their eyes opened wide at these jewels, they pounced on them, folding and unfolding them with squeals of delight, then stuffed them away in their pockets like sweets to be savoured later. Tiny tots in parents' arms asked to be held up to stroke the Com ris parrots. Leaflets and Magazines disappeared like hot cakes. My collection of visitors' business cards grew and my own supply diminished rapidly.

We gave away 280 small ESE cards, 446 large ESE cards, 376 white small cards, 400 white folders with project descriptions, 440 blue folding cards, and a whopping 650 copies of the magazine.

My last abiding memory? Dear Reader, that is easy. The show was over and we were clearing up. The place was bedlam. Hot, bothered, tripping over leads and plugs, boxes of leaflets and posters dropping from my grasp, I happened to glance behind me into eRENA/eSCAPE's inner sanctum. There, completely oblivious to the screeching, clattering, crashing and banging going on around her, sat Sally Norman, alone with the Generator, concentrated, confident as Magnifico playing the Visi-Sonor, cool, calm, quiet ly rapt in her own other worlds.

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