©Richard Watt 2002

Claire waited nervously for the TransPod. A shiver of anticipation ran through her; bad enough to have been awake so early, worse to be seen here by one of her friends - or worse, Joe - clearly dressed for Outside. Claire considered herself modest compared to some of the current fashions - little more than strategically applied bodypaint, in some cases - but this was ridiculous; outer garments, under garments, and, over her arm, a coat of her grandmother's. Her HID glowed discreetly to indicate the imminent arrival of her Pod, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Claire had been to the Outside before, of course, and specifically had once been on a School trip to today's destination, Heritage City. She knew that it was sealed from the real Outside, and that it was broadly temperature controlled, but her memory of it was that it had been much colder than she was used to, and in spite of its Heritage status, full of unusual dangers. She let the Pod's seat wrap itself around her, wary of the fact that she would have to travel in a Livingstone carriage to reach her great-grandfather's house.

The entrance to Heritage City was, of course, still underground, but made in such a way to fool the visitor that they were in the open air of one of the parks - Claire had known which park once upon a time, but in truth the past held little appeal for her, and she didn't try very hard to remember it. She allowed herself to be amazed by the blueness of the sky, however, and vowed to do this again, perhaps with Joe - it was really a children's thing, she supposed, but there's no harm in looking, is there? Her implant scan proved a further surprise, as she saw the readout show Prepaid - Guest status: open. She supposed that Gramps had somehow arranged for this, and she was glad, for her credit status was a little shaky, and this trip would have been a solid shove towards the red.

The Livingstone carriage assaulted all her senses - a great deal of money had been spent on recreating a genuine turn of the century feel to them, and Claire quickly inserted her nose chip to try to deaden the worst of the smell. In a strange way, she was happy to be deafened by the noise of the wheels and brakes - she realised that she would have to de-sensitise a little before reaching the streets, and she wanted to be less fearful than on her previous visit, when every small sound caused her to flinch for the first two days of their visit. The carriage was more than half-full - Claire noticed with a start several Outsiders and what must be HC residents in the seats around her, and she tried not to stare, conscious that she lacked the healthcare imlpants at her neck and wrists. The carriage rattled and lurched over the ancient tracks, passing through unlit stations, until it passed the edge of the Heritage area, and stopped at the next set of platforms. A few of the residents got on and off here, and Claire supposed that they must use this as it had been used for so long, as transport - the idea made her feel cold and tired; to travel like this, shaken and pressed against your fellow travellers seemed little short of barbaric.

As her destination grew closer, she grew agitated, and in her nervousness, she alighted one stop too early. Rather than wait for another of the boneshakers to come along, she resolved to walk above ground. She emerged from the station into the open air for only the second time in her life - of course, the hermetic seal above the city meant that this wasn't, technically, open air, but the idea of it nevertheless made her feel a little faint, and she stopped for a moment, and concentrated on looking down until her head stopped spinning. Her great-grandfather had sent her images of the house and its environs, and she recalled one onto her HID now, and tried to orient it with the street she was looking at. The HID did the work for her, and showed her the direction and distance along with the estimate that it would take a little over ten minutes to walk there. In the event, it took less; Claire was walking much more quickly than normal - it was said that this was a noticeable effect of being in the City - it made you want to do everything faster. She looked up at the deep red glazing on the outside of the building, and tried to peer in one of the windows, but they appeared to be blank. The door she was seeking was nondescript, and would easily have been overlooked by a casual passer-by. To her alarm, there was an ancient door-knocker and a handwritten (handwritten! ) note which read "Knock once and enter". After a contemplative pause, she did as she was bid.

She was greeted by a wall of white so dazzling that she feared for her safety. She seemed to have been plunged into a room of pure energy, and she felt her knees start to give way. Suddenly, she hear her Gramps' familiar voice:
"Is that you, lass? Hang on, it's not quite - there, that should do it."
"Gramps?"
"Yes - look, Claire, would you mind going out and coming in again? Sorry, but it's just a bit of a technical hitch. jim's got it going now, though. Go on, we don't bite." With certain misgivings, Claire did as she was told. The second time she opened the door, she was convinced she had gone mad. In place of the blinding whiteness, there stretched an open lawn, with a gravel drive, fountains and oak trees. At the end of the drive was a majestic manor house in red brick, all spread before her under the crispest blue sky she could ever have imagined. She took a deep breath, and started to walk. The voice boomed at her:
"Whoa, lass - don't bother with all that! You've got an HID, haven't you? Well, just point it over here" - Claire could now make out a tiny figure on the steps of the house - "and it'll do the rest. Come on!" She pointed, and was instantly at the foot of the steps. She looked up, and gasped - this wasn't, as she had supposed, Gramps' avatar, but actual flesh and blood grinning down at her
"What is it, lass? Never seen an old one in the flesh before? No, don't suppose you have, come to think of it. Look, we're all pretty harmless - come in; come and see the madhouse" The old man chuckled softly to himself, and turned to go back in. Claire made to follow him, and bumped her shin on the step.
"Oh, sorry, should have said - everything else from here on is real - well, solid, anyway. Sorry about the bruise." Claire quickly healed the small cut, and climbed the steps. As she approached her ancestor, she could feel all her pent-up questions fighting to escape: why did they live here like this? Why did they try to prolong physical life instead of pluggin in to the ether like everyone else of their generation; and what on earth did they do all day? Gramps had never answered her questions via avatar, insisting that she must come and see for herself; now he seemed no more disposed to answer, but insistent on giving her what he called the 'Grand Tour'.

"This," Gramps declaimed, "is how we were meant to live. It's not how your grandfather would have it, and it's not what you young folk would recognise, but it's a real, human, community. We choose this because we are a community, and while we can avail ourselves of the best in modern medicine - no-one in my father's generation expected to live to 109 - we can still be self-sufficient; and more importantly to us, we can still smell the flowers." Claire could see no flowers, but she let that pass. They were in some kind of corridor, with doors off to both sides; some open, some firmly shut with notices tagged to the outside in the conventional manner. Claire strained to read one: 'Go away. Limerick in progress.' She had a sudden flash of a classic book she had scanned as a child - Alice in Wonderland, or some such , and shivered.
"Are you cold, lass - we can do something about that - look, I'll show you the nerve centre." Gramps disappeared down a set of spiral steps, and Claire hurried after him. They emerged in a basemet full of metal boxes, wires and noise. Several elderly men sat at desks, peering into antique screens, and pressing buttons on actual, genuine keyboards. Claire stared in disbelief
"Gramps, what are they doing? And why?"
"This is where we run the whole community from. We all help out these days, but these are the guys who know how it all works - jim here has the personal details and so on; Dan over there" - he indicated somewhere in the middle distance - "looks after the lines of communication, keeping everyone in touch; always presuming that they want to keep in touch, that is; and Dunx over there" - far enough away that Claire could make out little, just a figure waving genially - "keeps the ambience right - each room can have its own 'skin' to suit your mood, and Dunx keeps all that running. There are others around, but they must be out at the moment. Come on, let's see who's in today." The old man was off, up a different set of stairs, and Claire, who never normally encountered stairs, struggled to keep up.

They emerged in a vast kitchen, amply stocked, it seemed, although there were curious lists (handwritten again) fixed to some of the surfaces. Claire read one, stuck to what appeared to be some kind of storage cabinet:
Twenty small onions;
A selection of mushrooms;
A small aubergine.
Gramps smiled:
"We eat better if it's sonnet shopping list week" Claire shook her head in incomprehension. Gramps laughed:
"Don't worry, you'll get it - it's in the blood." A woman came into the kitchen, dragging a cello. Gramps whispered:
"That's nat - she's our wanderer; doesn't get out much these days, but never in the same room two days running. Come on, I want you to see the library." Claire felt on surer ground:
"But Gramps, you don't have a library; I'd be able to see it on here" - she indicated her HID - "and I've never found one for this place." She was rewarded with a belly laugh:
"Not your kind of library, my dear child; a real one - books, paper, that sort of thing. Come on, you'll love it." He was off again, through a door which seemed to materialise in front of him, and led to another endless corridor. A door slammed shut beside them, and Claire jumped:
"Oh, sorry, should have warned you; that's Rich - you can't see Rich, because - well, Claire, it's just best if you don't..."

Further along the corridor, there stood a blue cupboard of some sort; Gramps smiled:
Know what that is, Claire?"
"Well, Gramps, I can read - it's a Police Box, whatever that means."
"Well, certainly, that's what it appears to be. Come along, I'll show you." He walked up to it and pushed the door open
"Thos? Projoy? You in there?" A distant 'halloo' answered in the affirmative. Claire's already bewildered sense of perspective took another blow - the interior of this tiny box was easily as big as the house it was contained in, if not bigger; there were two smartly dressed gentlemen at a card table some distance off.
"We shouldn't disturb them; they're writing a villanelle entirely composed of puns - I don't think you're quite ready for that yet..." Further along the corridor, they came upon the Library. Claire had never seen anything quite like it; even in images. There were real, genuine, paper books as far as the eye could see - floor to ceiling, in racks and cabinets; on desks and tables. A distinguished-looking woman peered at them over her spectacles. Gramps adopted hushed tones:
"That's Néa, the Librarian, and, yes, that's an orangutang suit on the hook. I'll explain later. We need to find somewhere to talk." As Gramps searched, Claire gazed out the window.
"Gramps? What's the building out there?"
"Hm? Oh, that 's the dog's house."
"You have animals here?" Gramps laughed:
"No, not a real dog. That's where st. dog lives - he's very nearly housetrained, but we have to keep a close eye on him. Come on, in here'll do."

They settled in an otherwise unoccupied room. There was a standard InterPanel on the wall, and no antiques - technical or otherwise - to be seen. Gramps pulled up a chair, and motioned Claire to do the same:
"Look, I know this is a little overwhelming, but I think you'll get used to it - providing, of course that you're staying."
"Staying? But - why do you think I'd stay?"
"Because you're the one. The only descendant in my family, at any rate - some of the others have identified their successors, and they're around here somewhere." He took a deep breath: "Claire. You must know that we've chosen this way. We have many years left to us, but we will not last forever. We are the last guardians of the Game."
"The Game?"
"The Onlie Game; the Game of - well, I thought you might have guessed from the location, but it seems that our legend has passed your generation by. We live on here with our memories and our poetry, but we need to train a new generation. The Game must not be allowed to die. You, and the others, will be our successors. Whether you choose to be mortal is a decision for your future; for now, all I ask is that you look at this." The old man pulled a large volume from beneath his overcoat, and laid it gently on the table which suddenly appeared between them. A voice at the door said:
"Watty, you done?"
"Almost, Yer Mom, almost - the hook is baited, we'll see you at dinner, I suspect." While the two elders talked, Claire looked at the volume in front of her. Something inside her seemed to burst as she read the ancient writing on the cover: