There were still no signs of life in this version of Zoberne, no Pradahl, who in the real game was now wearing a shimmering, fiery-red coat of scales. Ant’s avatar Tarn was wearing armour made from the skin Pradahl had shed on the previous planet, a lapis lazuli blue.
To try and make himself feel more involved, Ant brought up the avatar menu and gave himself the name ‘Tarn2’. Switching back to Zoberne, he walked around and did what Kyto the ghost monkey told him to do: he climbed up one side of a volcano, ran around the rim, then slid back down. He crashed into some lava flowers at the bottom, sending pollen bombs hurtling into the air, and Kyto made him start again. He was soon fed up. It was lonely in this familiar yet unfamiliar world without Pradahl. If he carried on, he knew the enteos would begin appearing and then he supposed it would get interesting. Yet he still felt the same way he always had. He only spent an hour each evening gaming. Why would he want to waste that time on Ray-Chay when what he longed to do was play the real, honest-to-goodness Kismet Cosmos? It didn’t matter how amazing the new technology was, there was simply no comparison.
‘Sorry, Lance,’ Ant said, removing the headset and peeling off the suit. Not that Lance was around to hear. ‘Sorry, everyone. It’s just not that interesting.’
Ant knew he was going to feel more out of it than usual on Saturday when Ray-Chay in the Park was on. Practically everyone would be at the event. Thousands of people up and down the country, all finding enteos together. All racing, chasing, collecting and destroying. Ant would probably go to the table-tennis club. He could always tilt up one end of the table for some solo practice if there was no one else around. Or he’d play Kismet Cosmos, maybe solve the final puzzle path and reach the hundredth planet. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he reached the hundredth planet but hoped that it didn’t mean the end of the game.
Ant had always quite liked the fact he was the only one who still played Kismet Cosmos, but now he wished he had someone else to share it with. For the first time he realised how lonely he felt.
6
Theft
Griff was super-excited about Ray-Chay in the Park except for one thing. His mum was going too.
‘You can’t!’ wailed Griff. ‘You’re going to stick out in that pink suit like a … big … fat … marshmallow!’
‘Griff Landsdowne,’ Paula said through clenched teeth. ‘Is that any way to speak to your mother? Anyway, thanks to Ray-Chay I’ve lost loads of weight, thank you very much.’
‘But everyone will see you. My mates will see you.’
‘So? My mates will see you, I don’t go on about it!’
Griff snatched the magazine his mum had been reading off the worktop and threw it on the floor. He felt like throwing himself on top of it and beating the floor with his fists. Paula glared at him.
‘Watch it, my boy, or you’ll find yourself grounded this weekend. Your dad and I work our fingers to the bone for you. Without us, you wouldn’t have that expensive suit. Most people can only afford the boring grey ones.’
‘But Mu-um. I bet you can’t even play. Not properly like me and my mates.’
Quite calmly, Paula picked the magazine up, rolled it into a tube and pointed it at Griff. ‘That’s all you know,’ she said. ‘What level are you on?’
‘Level 17.’
Paula smiled. ‘I’ve just got on to level 21.’
‘Wha–?’ Griff couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said she’d been picked for the Olympics.
‘That’s right. And the other day I called out a rareio. It’s in my cache.’
‘A rareio?’
‘Yes. A rare-i-o,’ she stretched out the word with glee. ‘Peppermint flavour. That’s what you call it. Special enteos like this one have “flavours”.’
Griff didn’t know what to say. His mum seemed to know a lot more about it than he did. Normally he could get Paula to do whatever he wanted, but there was something different about her, a new kind of strength. It made him nervous. His mum was almost like a rareio herself, standing there smirking, and Griff had just found out he wasn’t a strong enough player to challenge her.
Without another word, Paula went out through the patio doors, strolled down the garden path, plonked herself in the chair by the fish pond and carried on reading her magazine.
Griff was fuming. How on earth had his mother managed to get to level 21? How, in heaven’s name, had she got her hands on a rareio? If she was telling the truth, of course. If she wasn’t telling a little mumsy-wumsy porky-pie to stun Griff into shutting up about Ray-Chay in the Park.
No. Griff knew his mum well enough to believe her. She had found a rareio and had it banged up in her cache. Griff felt so jealous. And embarrassed. What if his mates found out? It wasn’t fair, Ray-Chay was supposed to be for Griff’s generation! How come old people were allowed to play it? Why wasn’t there an upper age limit on these games?
When Griff’s dad came home from work, the three of them ate together.
