When Jaron Lanier coined the term “virtual reality” in the 1980s, he predicted that by 2010 it would be accessible to consumers (Heiss, 2003). Online virtual worlds that made use of this concept were fi rst depicted in novels such as Neuromancer (Gibson, 1984) and Snow Crash (Stephenson, 1992). Virtual reality and virtual worlds are no longer in the realm of far-off science fi ction. Lainer was correct, although perhaps a little late, in his prediction. Perceptions of virtual reality have been a common feature of popular culture. In 1993, the Aerosmith music video for Amazing depicted two teenagers skydiving, making out, and riding a motorbike in a virtual environment using their personal computers from their separate bedrooms. More recently, the Matrix trilogy of fi lms placed virtual worlds in a disturbing light. For some people with disability, virtual worlds such as Linden Lab’s popular Second Life are enabling technologies. Yet, as the 1987 Webster defi nition suggests, sensory stimuli is a core aspect of one’s navigation of those worlds. Virtual reality blurs the previously uncontroversial boundaries between technology and the body, by calling into question where bodies begin and end (Seymour, 1998: 6). These virtual worlds are accessed through a computer screen, keyboards, mouse, speakers, and microphone. The

direct input into our brains envisaged in much of the fi ction is yet to appear, however, these narratives demonstrate that the link between a person’s physical body and the construction of their online persona can be a complex negotiation.