Only You Can Save Mankind

The ScreeWee had turned around. They were head- ing back deeper into game space. Why? They'd show up on people's screens soon! There were always some players who'd go looking. Any day now some kid'd switch on his machine and there'd be wall-to-wall ScreeWee, heading straight for him. They weren't safe even now. Yes - there were always some people who'd go looking

And there was a green dot ahead of him. He recog- nized the way it moved, like a dog creeping around the edge of a sheep field.

He headed towards it.

Now he could remember. You thought better in game space, too. It was as if he was more him in game space. Krystal or Kylie or one of those made-up names, Wobbler had said. And Bigmac said the other name was Dunn

He twirled the knob of the communicator panel.

'Krystal?' he tried. 'Kylie? Kathryn? Whatever?'

There was just the hiss of the stars, and then: 'It's Kirsty, actually.'

'Don't fire!' said Johnny, quickly.

'Who are you?'

'Don't fire, first. Promise? I hate dying. It makes it hard to think.'

The other ship had stopped being a dot now. If she was going to fire, he was as good as dead - if dead was good.

'All right,' she said, slowly. 'No firing. Peace talk. Now tell me who you are.'

'I'm a player, like you,' said Johnny.

'No you're not. None of the other players talk to me. Anyway, you're on, their side. I've been watching you.

'Not ... exactly on their side,' said Johnny.

'Well, you're not on my side,' said Kirsty. 'No-one is.

'Did they try to surrender to you too? I heard you say in Patel's shop that they'd sent you a message.

There was another silence filled with the whispers of the universe, and then a cautious voice: 'You're not the fat one who looks as though he could do with a bra, are you?'

'No. Listen-' Johnny tapped his controls hurriedly.

'The black one who looks like an accountant?' 'No. Look-'

'Oh, no ... not the skinny one with the big boots and the pointy head ...

'No, I'm the one who kind of hangs around and no- one notices much,' said Johnny desperately.

'Who? I didn't see anyone.~ 'Right! That was me!'

'They surrendered to you?' 'Yes!' Number three missile went ping as it locked on to her ship. Now for number four- 'But you're a nerd!' Ping!

'I think it's dweeb now. Anyway, I'm more than a dweeb.'

Ping!

'Why?'

'I'm a dweeb with five missiles targeted on you.

'You said you weren't going to fire!'

'I haven't yet.'

'You said this was a peace talk!'

'You did. Anyway, it is. It's just that I'm ... kind of shouting.'

If he concentrated, he thought he could hear music in the background when she spoke.

'You've really got missiles targeted on me?'

'Yes.'

'I'm amazed you thought of it.'

'So am I. Look, I don't want to shoot anyone: But I need help. The fleet's turned round. They fired at me!'

'That's their job, dweeb. They fire at us, we fire at them. Why did they stop? It's no fun if they don't fire back.'

'They surrendered.'

'They can't surrender. It's a game.

'Well, they did. Sometimes you change the game. I don't know, Kirsty!'

'Listen, I hate that name!'

'I've got to call you something,' said Johnny. 'What do you call yourself?'

'If you tell anyone else I'll kill you-'

'I thought you were planning to do that anyway.

'I don't mean just kill you, I mean really kill you.'

'All right. What's your game name?' 'Sigourney - you're laughing!'

'I'm not! I'm not! It was a sneeze! Honest! No, it's a ... good name. Very ... appropriate . .

'It's just dreaming, anyway. I'm dreaming this. You're dreaming this.'

'So what? Doesn't make things unimportant.' There was some more silence with the scratchy sug- gestion of music in the background, and then: 'Ah-ha! While we've been talking, Mr Clever, I've targeted missiles on you!'

Johnny shrugged, even though there was no way she could see that.

'Doesn't matter. I thought you would, anyway. So we kill each other. Then we'll have to go through all this again. It's stupid. Don't you want to find out what happens next?'

More scratchy music.

'I can hear scratchy music,' said Johnny.

'It's my Walkman.'

'Clever. I wish I'd thought of that. I tried dreaming my camera, but the pictures weren't any good. What're you listening to?'

'C Inlay 4 Details - "Please Keep This Copy For Your Records".'

There was another scratchy pause.

Then, as if she'd been thinking deeply, she said: 'Look, we can't be in the same dream. That can't happen.'

'We could find out. Where'd you live?'

This time the pause went on for a long time. The ScreeWee fleet appeared on the radar.

'We'd better move,' said Johnny. 'They've started firing. Something's happened to the Captain. She's the one that wanted peace in the first place. Look, I know you live in Tyne Avenue or Crescent or somewhere-'

'How come we live so close?' 'Dunno. Bad luck, I suppose. Look, they're going to be in range soon- 'No problem. Then we shoot them.' 'We'll be killed. Anyway-' 'So what? Dying's easy.' 'I know. It's living that's the problem,' said Johnny, meaning it. 'You don't sound like someone who takes the easy way.

C Inlay 4 Details played on in the distance. 'So what do you have in mind?' Johnny hesitated. He hadn't thought that far. The new Captain didn't seem to want to talk.

'Dunno. I just don't want any ScreeWee to get killed.'

'Why not?' Because when they die, they die for real.

'I just don't, OK?'

Several fighters had left the fleet and were heading purposefully towards them.

'I'm going to try and talk one more time,' he decided. 'Someone must be listening.'

'Nerdy idea.'

'I'm not much good at the other kind.'

Johnny turned his ship and hit the Go-faster button. A few shots whiffled harmlessly past him and did a lot of damage to empty space.

And then he was heading at maximum speed towards the fleet.

Music came over the intercom.

'Idiot! Dodge and dive! No wonder you get shot a lot!'

He wiggled the joystick. Something clipped one of the starship's wings and exploded behind him.

'And you've got the fighters after you! Huh! You can't even save yourself!'

Johnny didn't take his eyes off the fleet, which was bouncing around the sky as he flung his ship about in an effort to avoid being shot at. 'You might try to be some help!' he shouted. There was a boom behind him. 'I am.' 'You're shooting them?' 'You're very hard to please, actually.'

The Captain tried the door of her cabin again. It was still locked. And there was almost certainly a guard in the corridor outside. ScreeWee tended to obey orders, even if they didn't like them. The Gunnery Officer was very unusual.

That, she thought bitterly, is what comes of pro- moting a male. They're unreliable thinkers.

She looked around the cabin. She didn't want to be in it. She wanted to be outside it. But she was in it. She needed a new idea.

Humans seemed much better at ideas. They always seemed to be on the verge of being totally insane, but it seemed to work for them. The inside of their heads would be an interesting place to visit, but she wouldn't want to live there.

How do you think like a human? Go into madness first, probably, and then out the other side . .

'Listen! Listen! If you keep going this way, you'll all be killed! You're going back into game space! People like me will find you! You'll all be killed! That's how it goes!'

And then he died.

It was 6.3 ~. He was lying on his bed with his clothes on, but he still felt cold.

Bits and pieces of his ... his previous life trickled through his mind.

Sigourney!

Well, Yo-less would say that explained anything. And now it looked as if he'd be spending every night watching the ScreeWee get killed.

It was bad enough fighting off people in ones and twos. But they were just the ones who were weird or lonely or bored enough to go looking. Wobbler said thousands of copies of the game had been sold. Even if most people took them back to the shops, there'd always be someone playing. Once the ScreeWee turned up again, the news would get around