'Yes, but your mother says that about practicallyeverything,' said Wobbler.

'This is true,' said Yo-less gravely. 'It's her hobby.'

'She said role-playing games were creations of Satan,'said Wobbler.

'True.'

'Dead clever of him,' said Wobbler. 'I mean, sittingdown there in Hell, working out all the combat tablesand everything. I bet he used to really swear every timethe dice caught fire . .

Shamanism, thought Johnny. Yes. I could be ashaman. A guide. That's better than being mental, atany rate.

It was Maths again. As far as Johnny was concerned,the future would be a better place if it didn't contain3y + xZ. He had problems enough without peoplegiving him pages of this.

He was trying to put off the idea of ringing someoneup.

And then there was Social Education. Normally youcould ignore Social Education, which tended to beabout anything anyone had on their minds at the timeor, failing that, Aids. Really the day ended with Maths.It was just there to keep you off the streets for anotherthree-quarters of an hour.

He could try ringing up. You just needed the phonebook and a bit of thought

Johnny stared at the ceiling. The teacher was goingon about the war. That was all there was to talk aboutthese days. He listened with half an ear. No-one likedthe bombing. One of the girls was nearly in tears aboutit

Supposing she was really there? Or supposing she saidshe'd never heard of him?

Bigmac was arguing. That was unusual.

And then someone said, 'Do you think it's easy? Doyou think the pilots really just sit there like . . - like agame? Do you think they laugh? Really laugh? Notjust laugh because they're still alive, but laugh becauseit's ... it's fun? When they're being shot at for a living,every day? When any minute they might get blown uptoo? Do you think they don't wonder what it's allabout? Do you think they like it? But we always turnit into something that's not exactly real. We turn itinto games and it's not games. We really have to findout what's real!'

They were all looking at him.

'Anyway, that's what I think,' said Johnny.

On Earth, No-one Can Hear You

Say 'Um'

Click!'Yes?''Um.''Hello?''Um. Is Sig - is Kirsty there?''Who's that?'

'I'm a friend. Um. I don't think she knows mynarne.

'You're a friend and she doesn't know your name?'

'Please!'

'Oh, hang on.'

Johnny stared at his bedroom wall. Eventually asuspicious voice said, 'Yes? Who's that?'

'You're Sigourney. You like C Inlay 4 Details. Youfly really well. You-'

'You're him!'Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. Real!Going through the phone book had been harder thanflying the starship. Nearly harder than dying.'I wasn't sure you really existed,' he said.'I wasn't sure you existed,! she said.'I've got to talk to you. I mean face to face.''How do I know you're not some sort of maniac?''Do I sound like some sort of maniac?'

'Yes!'

'All right, but apart from that?'

There was silence for a moment. Then she said, reluc-tantly: 'All right. You can come round here.'

'What? To your house?''It's safer than in public, idiot.'Not for me, Johnny thought.'OK,' he said.'I mean, you might be one of those funny people.''What, clowns?'And then she said, very cautiously: 'It's really you?''Really I'm not sure about. But me, yes.''You got blown up.''Yes, I know. I was there, remember.'

'I don't die often in the game. It took me ages evento find the aliens.'

Huh, thought Johnny.

'It doesn't get any better with practice,' he said,darkly.

Tyne Crescent turned out to be a pretty straight roadwith trees in it, and the houses were big and had doublegarages and a timber effect on them to fool people intobelieving that Henry VIII had built them.

Kirsty's mother opened the door for him. She wasgrinning like the Captain, although the Captain had theexcuse that she was related to crocodiles. Johnny felt hehad the wrong clothes on, or the wrong face.

He was shown into a large room. It was mainlywhite. Expensive bookshelves lined one wall. Most ofthe floor was bare pine, but varnished and polished toshow that they could have afforded carpets if they'dwanted them. There was a harp standing by a chair inone corner, and music scattered around it on the floor.

Johnny picked up a sheet. It was headed 'RoyalCollege, Grade V'.

'Well?'

She was standing behind him. The sheet slipped outof his fingers.

'And don't say "um",' she said, sitting dawn. 'Yousay "um" a lot. Aren't you ever sure about things?'

'Uh No. Hello?'

'Sit down. My mother's making us some tea. Andthen staying out of the way. You'll probably noticethat. You can actually hear her staying out of the way.She thinks I ought to have more friends.'

She had red hair, and the skinny look that went withit. It was as if someone had grabbed the frizzy ponytailon the back of her head and pulled it tightly.

'The game,' said Johnny vaguely.

'Yes? What?'

'I'm really glad you're in it too. Yo-less said it wasall in my head because of Trying Times. He said it wasjust me projecting my problems.'

'I haven't got any problems,' snapped Kirsty. 'I geton extremely well with people, actually. There's pro-bably some simple psychic reason that you're too stupidto work out.'

'You sounded more concerned on the phone,' saidJohnny.

'But now I've had time to think about it. Anyway,what's it to me what happens to some dots in amachine?'

'Didn't you see the Space Invaders?' said Johnny.

'Yes, but they were stupid. That's what happens.Charles Darwin knew about that. I am a winning kindof person. And what I want to know is, what were youdoing in my dream?'

'I'm not sure it's a dream,' said Johnny. 'I'm notsure what it is. Not exactly a dream and not exactlyreal. Something in between. I don't know. Maybesomething happens in your head. Maybe you're in therebecause - because, well, I don't know why, but there'sgot to be a reason,' he ended lamely.

'Why're you there, then?'

'I want to save the ScreeWee.'

'Why?'

'Because we've got a responsibility. But the Cap-tain's been ... I don't know, locked up or something.There's been some kind of mutiny. It's the GunneryOfficer. He's behind it. But if I - if we could get herout, she could probably turn the fleet around again. Ithought you might be able to think of some way of get-ting her out,' Johnny finished lamely. 'We haven't gota lot of game time.

'She?' said Kirsty.

'She started all this. She relied on me,' said Johnny.

'You said "she",' said Kirsty.

Johnny stood up.

'I thought you might be able to help,' he saidwearily, 'but who cares what happens to some dots thataren't even real. So I'll just-'

'You keep saying "she",' said Kirsty. 'You mean theCaptain's a woman?'

'A female,' said Johnny. 'Yes.'

'But you called the Gunnery Officer a "he",' saidKirsty.

'That's right.'

Kirsty stood up.

'That's typical. That's absolutely typical of modernsociety. He probably resents a wo - a female being bet-ter than him. I get that all the time.'

'Um,' said Johnny. He hadn't meant to say 'um'. Hemeant to say: 'Actually, all the ScreeWee except theGunnery Officer are females.' But another part of hisbrain had thought faster and shut down his mouthbefore he could say it, diverting the words into oblivionand shoving good old 'um' in their place.

'There was an article in a magazine,' said Kirsty. 'Thiswhole bunch of directors of a company ganged up on thiswoman and sacked her just because she'd become theboss. It was just like me and the Chess Club.'

It probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell her. Therewas a glint in her eye. No, it probably wouldn't be agood idea to be honest. Truthfulness would have to doinstead. After all, he hadn't actually lied.