He could tell Wobbler, and then somehow itwouldn't be real.

'Oh, you know ... funny.'

'Like what?'

'Weird. Um. Lifelike, I suppose.

'It's sposed to be. Just like the real thing, it says. Ihope you've read the manual properly. My dad spent awhole coffee break copying that.'

Johnny gave a sickly grin.

'Yes. Right. Better read it, then. Thanks for StarFighter Pilot-''TeraBomber. My dad brought me back AlabamaSmith and the Jewels of Fate from the States. You canhave a copy if you give me the disc back.'

'Right,' said Johnny.'It's OK.'

'Right,' said Johnny.

He never had the heart to tell Wobbler that he didn'tplay half the games Wobbler passed on. You couldn't.Not if you wanted time to sleep and eat meals. But thatwas all right because Wobbler never asked. As faras Wobbler was concerned, computer games weren'tthere for playing. They were for breaking into, rewrit-ing so that you got extra lives or whatever, and thencopying and giving away to everyone.

Basically, there were two sides to the world. Therewas the entire computer games software industryengaged in a tremendous effort to stamp out piracy,and there was Wobbler. Currently, Wobbler was infront.

'Did you do my History?' said Wobbler.

'Here,' said Johnny. ' "What it was like to be apeasant during the English Civil War." Three pages.'

'Thanks,' said Wobbler. 'That was quick.'

'Oh, in Geog last term we had to do one about Whatit's like being a peasant in Bolivig. I just got rid of thellamas and put in stuff about kings having their headschopped off. You have to bung in that kind of stuff,and then you just have to keep complaining about theweather and the crops and you can't go wrong, inpeasant essays.

Johnny lay on his bed reading Only You Can SaveMankind.

He could just about remember the days when youcould still get games where the instructions consisted of