Message . . .

Ran away . . .

Johnny sidled closer.

Mr Patel muttered something else, and then turned to one of the shelves. The shop watched in amazement. There was a new game in his hand. He was actually going to make an exchange. This was like Genghis Khan deciding not to attack a city but stay at home and watch the football instead.

Then he held up his hand, nodded at the girl, and stalked over to one of the shop’s own computers, the ones with so many fingermarks on the keys that you couldn’t read them any more.

Everyone watched in silence as he loaded up the copy of the game that the girl had brought back. The music came on. The title scrolled up the screen, like the one in Star Wars. It was the usual stuff: ‘The mighty ScreeWee fleet have attacked the Federation,’ whatever that was, ‘and only you . . .’

And then there was space. It was computer space – a sort of black, with the occasional star rolling past.

‘There ought to be six ships on the first mission,’ said someone behind Johnny.

Mr Patel scowled at him. He pressed a key cautiously.

‘You’ve just fired a torpedo at nothing, Mr Patel,’ said Wobbler.

Finally Mr Patel gave up. He waved his hands in the air.

‘How d’you find the things to shoot?’ he said.

‘They find you,’ said someone. ‘You should be dead by now.’

‘See?’ said the girl. ‘You get nothing but space. I left it on for hours, and there was just space.’

‘Maybe you’re not persevering. You kids don’t know the meaning of the word persevere,’ said Mr Patel.

Wobbler looked over the shopkeeper’s head to Johnny and raised his eyebrows.

‘It’s like persistently trying,’ said Johnny helpfully.

‘Oh. Right. Well, I persistently tried the other night and I didn’t find any, either.’

Mr Patel carefully unwrapped the new copy of the game. The shop watched as he slotted the disc into the computer.

‘Then let us see what the game looks like before Mr Wobbler plays his little tricks,’ he said.

There was the title screen. There was the story, such as it was. And the instructions.

And space.

‘Soon we shall see,’ said Mr Patel.

And then more space.

‘This one was only delivered yesterday.’

Lots more space. That was the thing about space.

Mr Patel picked up the box and looked at it carefully, but they’d all seen him take off the polythene.

They’ve gone, thought Johnny.

Even on the new games.

They’ve all gone.

People were laughing. But Wobbler and Yo-less were staring at him.

Chapter 4

‘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 came out with the kind of big, slow statement that suggested some sort of deep thinking had been going on for some time. It was like mountains. Johnny knew they were made by continents banging together, but no one ever saw it happening.