Readers:

            Finally got around to writing a new editorial. Hope you're not too confused. Second entry in my editorials, seen through the haze (as all things are just now) of uncountable updates by the Creators...

 

 

             Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
             Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell

 

            It's 11:40 on a May morning and I'm painfully peering out of my window at the incongruously bright overcast sky. The blank screen before me beckons and I wearily mull over the fact that I really should be doing some real work now, like updating the Guide. I can hear the rumble of the never-ending work going on behind where I live and wonder what the lives of those who don't follow the game are like. Empty, I conclude.

            Switching windows, I delay writing by checking what's going on in the IRC chat room, even though I know full well that there will be no decent folk up at this godforsaken hour. My prediction is depressingly correct yet I still scroll further up the logs to see if anything interesting happened over the night.

> 

              And the profit and loss.
              A current under sea

 

            I fire up my internet browser and email client, hoping to receive inspiration. A flicker of the screen and a second later it seems as if my room has been bathed in some kind of glowing light, filled with wisdom. My AI Cloudmaker has returned and speaks to me through the (in comparison to his sophistication) laughably antiquated interface of 2D projection.

 

Cloudmaker says, astonished to find me awake.

 

            "You're one to talk," I grumble.  "Do you think that the Guide and these editorials write themselves? Anyway, it was a busy night what with Basta's death and those new puzzles," I say, looking pointedly at my webcamera.  "So, have I received any interesting new mail, by which I mean any mail that isn't related to my omission of the chatbot from the AI movie website or the Metropolitan Living Homes ballroom?"

 

            Outside, the sun briefly emerges from behind a cloud and stabs angrily down towards my desk. Cloudmaker fiddles with the brightness settings on my monitor and brings up a list of mail.

 

he tells me. Let's see, various mailing lists and... ah... some news about another game called Majestic.

 

            "My dear sir, don't you think I haven't already heard about Majestic before? Electronic Arts have been shouting far and wide about their new game."

            Some say you can't tell when a being that moves at light speed is "exasperated." They're wrong. Sighing, I opened the email and looked at its contents. It was a lengthy description of Majestic.

 

          Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell

 

            "I don't see what's so interesting about Majestic, Cloudmaker. It's pretty much identical to this investigation we're involved with."

            While Cloudmaker busies himself with thinking up a hundred undoubtedly irrefutable arguments stating that Majestic is different, I shamble off to the kitchen to fix myself a glass of juice. When I return, Cloudmaker says,

 

 

            "Don't be silly, I'd never leave this investigation for Majestic. And in any case, it costs money to play; something like $10 per month, would you believe it?” Before Cloudmaker can interject, I continue, "Yes, I do know that it's just part of EA's so-called Platinum Service and you get extra games, but still. It's the principle." The sun has returned to hiding behind thick layers of clouds and a gloom settles upon me.  "Why does the weather have to be so damned depressing in Cambridge," I ask myself rhetorically

 

he shoots back.  That makes me smile—no mean feat for me before lunchtime on a Friday morning.

 

            "I wish I could, but that's hardly something I have to time to do now." I pause for a few seconds. "You know, when I think about it, I wonder if the $10 monthly charge for Majestic will provide a 'better' game, whatever that is supposed to be. It's mainly based on the Internet with other forms of communication, but so is the Evan Chan investigation. So in that respect, how can it be any better than what we're doing?"

            Cloudmaker is being unusually quiet. I prod him for an answer and say, "Seeing as you brought it up, what do you think of Majestic?"

 

 

            I frown at the image on my monitor. "What?"

 

 

            I blink.  "'You think that Majestic is just hot air?" I laugh - Cloudmaker has always had a strange sense of humour. "I wouldn't put it quite like that. You know, I wonder if we're being too harsh on them. They do have to charge players for the game; it's not as if they're publicising a movie."

 

            A noisy delivery truck roars past my window, rattling the curtains. 

 

            "I do wonder though, that the Evan Chan investigation were are involved with is actually more groundbreaking than Majestic. It brings people together both through necessity and community, in that the puzzles simply cannot be solved these days without a group effort - and that group effort produces a common interest and goal. I'm not certain that Majestic can offer that, among other things..."

 

          He passed the stages of his age and youth,

 

 

            "Well, look at it this way. Majestic is tailored to be a much more individual game - it emails you, not the group. It calls you up, it faxes messages to you. Yes, the storylines might be the same for everyone playing - in fact, they are the same - but you feel a much greater involvement. And I understand the impulse for people wanting to be more involved. But you do take away the community aspect to a certain extent, and keeping track of all the thousands of players or more will take a lot of work."

 

            "You know that as a result of this, the game is based around monthly episodes. So if you complete an episode before the month is up, you've got to wait until the next month. Sure, they say they'll do it in a natural way so that you'll be told something like 'I'll call you next month' by whoever your informant is, but it still sounds contrived. The Evan Chan investigation is much different - it's not tailored to individuals per se, but the narrative never stops moving. To me, that's what counts. And in that respect, Majestic --"

 

 

            "I wouldn't go that far, but you're right, it won't be getting my money."

 

            I pop out to the kitchen to fetch another glass of juice.

 

            "And there's another thing. I can't say I like its subject matter. I've looked at their website and the fan sites, and it all seems very opaque. It's very difficult to see what it's all about - from what I gather, there's probably UFOs and aliens invoved. It just strikes me as being a bit..."

 

Cloudmaker says.

 

            "Childish, yes. Of course, that's just my personal opinion. People would be right to say that much of what I enjoy is also childish. Still. It smells distinctly like an interactive X-Files game, and I went off X-Files years ago ever since I realised their writers didn't have any more idea of what its overall storyline was supposed to be than I did."

 

 

            "I'm glad to see that you agree."

             I spend a few minutes pottering about the room, ineffectually moving pieces of paper from place to place in a vain attempt to tidy things up. A random thought flashes into my mind.

            "I wonder. Forget Majestic for a while, but I've just realised that our investigation is unlikely to end when AI is released."

 

 

            "I have my reasons to believe so. There'll be enough media interest in the movie with or without the Evan Chan investigation, but a few weeks after, when box office takings have subsided - or even later than that, at the European release - I imagine that a spectacular ending to the investigation would draw a decent amount of media attention and help revive interest."

 

          Entering the whirlpool.

 

            I sat back into my chair again, musing about the investigation. There were so many things that the game creators - the Puppetmasters - could have done wrong with the game. They could have included ostensible references and adverts for the movie. They could have slowed down or speeded up updates, or written a less compelling storyline. But they didn't.

 

            People talk about it being 'just a story' or 'just a game'. It is a story, and it is a game. But when were these things ever 'just' anything? Stories and games are part of the fabric of our lives, they're fundamentally at the heart of what humanity is. Some say that diversions such as this investigation will never be a replacement for the 'real world' and of course they are right. Yet when did we ever pretend otherwise? Stories and games have always had something to teach us about the world, something to make us laugh and cry. It doesn't matter what format they are in, but any well-written story that brings people together is always a good one in my book, and I'm certain that the Evan Chan investigation fits that bill.

 

          Gentile or Jew

 

            The chatter of activity and thought processes within Cloudmaker pauses for a second, and startled, I exclaim, 'Cloudmaker?'

 

he responds drily.

 

            "You're alright, aren't you?  All systems normal?  Full speed and capacity?"

 

 

            "Because at the first sign of trouble-"

 

 

            "The Spherewatchers didn't see it coming either, but look where they are now."

 

            Cloudmaker gives me the Anxious Dog: 

 

            "Very funny," I grouch.

 

            This Evan Chan investigation is showing no sign of ending, and every week the Puppetmasters surprise me with the new characters, websites and media they unveil. Full motion streamed video with proper actors, I think to myself increduously. I turn my head to look out of the window, and see the clouds still crowding out the sky, and sigh.

 

Cloudmaker says.

 

            "I know it will, eventually. And whatever happens, I'm certain that the rest of this summer will not disappoint," I say.

 

           O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
           Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you