License: Joytokey

Beneath the text was a string of characters:

The license key had been a free trial, intended for a teenager who wanted to play Minecraft with a racing wheel. But for Leo, it was a prosthetic. joytokey license

“Having trouble? Email me. - Mr. H.” Beneath the text was a string of characters:

Leo typed it into the license field. The dialog box vanished. The yoke in his hands went quiet, then live again. The virtual runway appeared on screen, steady as a rock. Email me

Six months ago, a rogue microburst had turned his Cessna into a lawn dart. His hands, once steady as stone, now betrayed him with a tremor that made holding a pen impossible. The FAA had pulled his medical license. The airline had pulled his livelihood.

“Your JoyToKey evaluation license has expired.”