'No-one Really Dies'

'I reckon,' said Bigmac, 'I reckon ...''Yes?' said Yo-less.

'I reckon ... Ronald McDonald is like Jesus Christ.'

Bigmac did that kind of thing. Sometimes he cameout with the kind of big, slow statement that suggestedsome sort of deep thinking had been going on for sometime. It was like mountains. Johnny knew they weremade by continents banging together, but no-one eversaw it happening.

'Yes?' said Yo-less, in a kind voice. 'And why do youthink this?'

'Well, look at all the advertising,' said Bigmac, wav-ing a fry in the general direction of the rest of the burgerbar. 'There's this happy land you go to where there'slakes of banana milkshake and - and trees covered infries. And ... and then there's the Hamburglar. He'sthe Devil.'

'Mr Zippy's advertised by a giant talking ice cream,'said Wobbler.

'I don't like that,' said Yo-less. 'I wouldn't trust anice cream that's trying to get you to eat ice creams.

Occasionally they talked like this for hours, whenthere was something they didn't want to talk about.But now they seemed to have run out of things to say.

They all looked silently at Johnny, who'd hardlytouched his burger.

'Look, I don't know what's happening,' he said.

'Gobi Software're going to be really pissed off whenthey find out what you've done,' said Wobbler,grinning.

'I didn't do anything!' said Johnny. 'It's not myfault!'

'Could be a virus,' said Yo-less.

'Nah,' said Wobbler. 'I've got loads of viruses. Theyjust muck up the computer. They don't muck up yourhead.'

'They could do,' said Yo-less. 'With flashing lightsand stuff. Kind of like hypnosis.'

'You said before I was making it all up! You said Iwas projecting fantasies!'

'That was before old Patel went through half a dozenboxes. I'm glad I saw that. You know she actually gotanother copy and her money back, actually?'

Johnny smiled uncomfortably.

Wobbler drummed his fingers on the table, or partlyon the table and partly in a pool of barbecue sauce.

'No, I still reckon it's just something Gobi Softwaredid to all the games. Cor, I like the virus idea, though,'he said. 'Humans catching viruses off of computers?Nice one.'

'It's not like that,' said Johnny.

'They used to do this thing with films where they'dput in just one frame of something, like an ice creamor something, and it'd enter people's brains withoutthem knowing it and they'd all want ice cream,' saidYo-less. 'Subliminal advertising, it was called. That'dbe quite easy to do on a computer.'

Johnny thought about the Captain showing himpictures of her children. That didn't sound like hyp-nosis. He didn't know what it did sound like, but itdidn't sound like hypnosis.

'Perhaps they're real aliens and they're in control ofyour computer,' said Yo-less.

'OOO eee OOO,' said Bigmac, waving hishands in the air and speaking in a hollow voice. 'JohnnyMaxwell did not know it, but he had just strayed into

the Toilet Zone ... deedledeedle, deedledeedle,deedledeedle . .

'After all, you're supposed to be leading them toEarth,' Yo-less went on.

'But that's just their own name for their own world,'said Johnny.

'You've only got their word for it. And they'renewts, too. You could be bringing them here.'

They all looked up, in case they could see through theceiling, T&F Insurance Services and the roof to a hugealien fleet in the sky above.

'You're just getting carried away,' said Wobbler.'You can't invade a planet with a lot of aliens out of acomputer game. They live on a screen. They're notreal.'

'What're you going to do about it, anyway?' saidYo-less.

'Just keep doing it, I suppose,' said Johnny. 'Whowas that girl in Patel's?'

'Don't know,' said Wobbler. 'Saw her in there oncebefore playing Cosmic Trek. Girls aren't much good atcomputer games because they haven't got such a goodgrasp of spatial . . - something or other like we have,'he went on airily. 'You know. They can't think inthree dimensions, or something. They haven't got theinstincts for it.'

'The Captain's a female,' said Johnny.

'It's probably different for giant alligators,' saidWobbler.

Bigmac sucked a sachet of tomato ketchup.

'Do you think IT might still be going when I'm oldenough to join the army?' he said, thoughtfully.

'No,' said Yo-less. 'Stormin' Bruce'll get it all sortedout. He'll kick some butt.'

They chorused 'Some but what?' like tired monks.They went to the cinema in the afternoon. AlabamaSmith and the Emperor's Crown was showing on Screen5. Wobbler said it was racist, but Yo-less said he quiteenjoyed it. They discussed whether it could still beracist if Yo-less enjoyed it. Johnny bought popcorn allround. That was another thing about Trying Times -pocket money was erratic, but you tended to get moreof it.

He had spaghetti hoops when he got home, andwatched TV for a while. The pyramid-shaped mandisguised as a desert seemed to be on a lot now. He toldjokes sometimes. The journalists laughed a bit. Johnnyquite liked Stormin' Norman. He looked the sort ofman who could talk to the Captain.

Then there was a programme about saving whales.They thought it was a good idea.

Then you could win lots of money if you could putup with the game show's host and not, for example,choke him with a cuddly toy and run away.

There was the News. The walking desert again, andpictures of bombs being dropped down enemychimneys with pin-point precision. And Sport.

And then . .

All right. Let's see.

He switched on.

Yes. Space. And more space

No ScreeWee anywhere.

Hang on, he thought. They're all in the big fleet,aren't they. Following me. They followed me out of -out of - out of game space. You must be able to getthere from here, if you keep going long enough. In theright direction, too.

Which way did I go?

Can I catch myself up?

Can anyone else catch me up?

He watched the screen for a while. It was even moreboring than the quiz show.

Sooner or later he'd have to go to sleep. He'd thoughthard about this, while Alabama Smith was being chasedby bad guys through a native market-place

... Johnny had a theory about these market-places.Every spy film and every adventure had a chase throughthe native market-place, with lots of humorousrickshaws crashing into stalls and tables being knockedover and chickens squawking, and the theory was: itwas the same market-place every time. It always lookedthe same. There was probably a stallholder somewherewho was getting very fed up with it

Anyway...

He'd take his camera.

He went to bed early with the camera strap woundaround his wrist. Cameras didn't dream.

The ship smelled human.

There were no alarms, no hissing noises.

I'm back, thought Johnny.

And there was the ScreeWee fleet, spread out acrossthe sky behind him.

And the camera, with its strap wrapped around hisarm. He untangled it quickly and took a photo of thefleet. It whined out of the machine after a few seconds.He held it under his armpit for a moment, and itgradually faded up. Yep. The fleet. If he could get itback, he'd have proof.

There was a red light flashing beside the screen on theconsole. Someone wanted to talk to him. He flicked theswitch.

'We saw your ship explode,' came the voice of the Cap-tain. The screen crackled for a moment, and thenshowed her face. It looked concerned. 'And then itreturned again. You are alive?'

'Yes,' said Johnny, and then added, 'I think so.''Excuse me. I must ask. What happens to you?'

'What?'

'When you ... go.

Johnny thought: What do I tell her? I stay awakein school. I stay in my room a lot. I hang out withWobbler and the others. We hang around in the mall,or in the park, or in one another's houses, although notmy house at the moment because of Trying Times, andsay things like 'I'm totally splanked' even though we'renot sure what they mean. Sometimes we go to thecinema. We live in Blackbury, most excellent city ofcool.