of golden yellow sandstone. With
a quick click, and a drag of the cursor, Hal transformed the wire-frame
monastery into a solid-looking building.
“There. What do you think?”
Jan screwed up her nose and moved her head from side to side.
“So so,” she commented.
“I know – it needs buttresses,” Hal suggested, and
began drawing shapes, in three dimensions, coming out of the wall. He then
duplicated them, and then duplicated them again until a full battalion of
buttresses was evenly spaced along the wall, one between each pair of windows.
“There. Now for the windows.” He pulled up a selection from
the system’s database of stained glass – more suited to a Victorian
semi-detached than a house of God. Hal copied and pasted one of them, then
repeated his trick of duplication.
“Not bad, eh?” Hal leant back to admire his handiwork.
“It’s really naff,” Jan exclaimed. Then, as if in sympathy,
each feature Hal had created popped off the screen in the same order in which
they had been added until only the original wire-frame monastery remained.
“Ha!” Jan laughed. “I don’t think your virus thought very
much of that.”
“Yeah. It looks as though you’ll have to go down to the
monastery after all,” retorted Hal. “But don’t tell my Mum and Dad what we’re
up to. After the way they made fun of us when we told them about Margaret, I
want to check out every bit of this before we tell them any more.”
Jan stopped when she reached the church and glanced at the
map on her smartphone.
“Come on, come on,” she cajoled, but despite her entreaties
the screen remained blank. “Hal’s right, the signal here is rubbish,” she
thought, as she pushed the phone back into her pocket and pulled out the folded
guidebook she had brought with her just in case. “I’ll have to rely on old technology,” she smiled.
She quickly found the map at the back of the guidebook and
studied it with care before looking up.
“Fork right at St James’,” she instructed herself.
Before doing so, she stood for a moment and looked at the
Victorian church and the ancient chapel in its graveyard. She tried to
superimpose her dream upon the ruin, but found it impossible under the blazing
July sun. She frowned beneath the hand that shaded her eyes, and bit her lip. It
would be so easy to shrug the whole thing off as just a stupid nightmare if it
hadn’t been for what had happened to Hal’s computer.
And what had happened
to Hal’s computer, Jan pondered. Could a virus really do that? Could she have done it, the thought suddenly occurred to her? Could she have got up, in
her sleep, walked into Hal’s bedroom, gone over to his computer and typed in
all that detail and thought it was a dream? No, surely not. She wouldn’t know
where to begin on Hal’s computer even when wide awake, let alone when fast
asleep.
Her speculations gradually subsided into reverie and she
stood gazing into the graveyard for some time before the roar of a motorbike
speeding past brought her back to the present.
No sign of Margaret today, she heard herself thinking aloud
as she turned, and was surprised at her sudden sense of disappointment as she
continued on her way. I wonder what it is she wants? And why has she chosen me ? Why not Hal? Perhaps she wants to
tell me something – something she can only tell a ‘friend’. Or perhaps
there’s something she wants me to do. But what?
So many questions tumbled about in Jan’s head that it was not
until she came another fork in the road that she realised that she had walked
too far. She retraced her steps, this time taking careful note of her surroundings,
and soon found the gap between two bungalows she was looking for. It marked the
start of the footpath that, according to the guidebook, led directly to the
monastery. She climbed over the stile that blocked the entrance and followed a
vague line of trodden grass around the perimeter of an empty meadow until she
reached
a quick click, and a drag of the cursor, Hal transformed the wire-frame
monastery into a solid-looking building.
“There. What do you think?”
Jan screwed up her nose and moved her head from side to side.
“So so,” she commented.
“I know – it needs buttresses,” Hal suggested, and
began drawing shapes, in three dimensions, coming out of the wall. He then
duplicated them, and then duplicated them again until a full battalion of
buttresses was evenly spaced along the wall, one between each pair of windows.
“There. Now for the windows.” He pulled up a selection from
the system’s database of stained glass – more suited to a Victorian
semi-detached than a house of God. Hal copied and pasted one of them, then
repeated his trick of duplication.
“Not bad, eh?” Hal leant back to admire his handiwork.
“It’s really naff,” Jan exclaimed. Then, as if in sympathy,
each feature Hal had created popped off the screen in the same order in which
they had been added until only the original wire-frame monastery remained.
“Ha!” Jan laughed. “I don’t think your virus thought very
much of that.”
“Yeah. It looks as though you’ll have to go down to the
monastery after all,” retorted Hal. “But don’t tell my Mum and Dad what we’re
up to. After the way they made fun of us when we told them about Margaret, I
want to check out every bit of this before we tell them any more.”
Jan stopped when she reached the church and glanced at the
map on her smartphone.
“Come on, come on,” she cajoled, but despite her entreaties
the screen remained blank. “Hal’s right, the signal here is rubbish,” she
thought, as she pushed the phone back into her pocket and pulled out the folded
guidebook she had brought with her just in case. “I’ll have to rely on old technology,” she smiled.
She quickly found the map at the back of the guidebook and
studied it with care before looking up.
“Fork right at St James’,” she instructed herself.
Before doing so, she stood for a moment and looked at the
Victorian church and the ancient chapel in its graveyard. She tried to
superimpose her dream upon the ruin, but found it impossible under the blazing
July sun. She frowned beneath the hand that shaded her eyes, and bit her lip. It
would be so easy to shrug the whole thing off as just a stupid nightmare if it
hadn’t been for what had happened to Hal’s computer.
And what had happened
to Hal’s computer, Jan pondered. Could a virus really do that? Could she have done it, the thought suddenly occurred to her? Could she have got up, in
her sleep, walked into Hal’s bedroom, gone over to his computer and typed in
all that detail and thought it was a dream? No, surely not. She wouldn’t know
where to begin on Hal’s computer even when wide awake, let alone when fast
asleep.
Her speculations gradually subsided into reverie and she
stood gazing into the graveyard for some time before the roar of a motorbike
speeding past brought her back to the present.
No sign of Margaret today, she heard herself thinking aloud
as she turned, and was surprised at her sudden sense of disappointment as she
continued on her way. I wonder what it is she wants? And why has she chosen me ? Why not Hal? Perhaps she wants to
tell me something – something she can only tell a ‘friend’. Or perhaps
there’s something she wants me to do. But what?
So many questions tumbled about in Jan’s head that it was not
until she came another fork in the road that she realised that she had walked
too far. She retraced her steps, this time taking careful note of her surroundings,
and soon found the gap between two bungalows she was looking for. It marked the
start of the footpath that, according to the guidebook, led directly to the
monastery. She climbed over the stile that blocked the entrance and followed a
vague line of trodden grass around the perimeter of an empty meadow until she
reached
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