Read Moxyland for Free Online Page B

is going to sort it one time. I'm not going to let a disconnect stop me. It'll be smooth sailing. Promise.'
       'After that stunt at Stones, you're still counting on Toby?' Ashraf is about to get majorly wound up, but then he slices his eyes meaningfully in Zuko's direction. 'I'm gonna do the laundry. We can talk later,' he says.
       But it's good for the kid to know what's on the level and in the open. You can't hide shit behind closed doors.
       It's better that Ashraf is off to do the laundry. He takes it as a personal affront that I spend so much time in Pluslife. 'Our life not good enough for you?'
       But before skyward*, we were Disney channel, strictly kid's stuff. We gotta step it up if we want to be taken seriously. I plug in the headphones, ignoring the huffiness in the background as Ash slams the door behind him, connect to the Plus server and I'm gone.
       Skyward* is waiting for me in Monomotapa, which is what I call my house in Avalon. With
    59.3 million registered users, it's one of world's favourite virtual escapes, which makes it easier to blend in unnoticed.
       Despite the Euro-traditional name, Avalon is Asia-centric, so the game world is six to eight hours ahead and more than half the population don't speak English, which suits me perfectly. What's the point of escaping to Plus if the world is too close to the one you just left? And besides, you can make an okay living, earning Avalon guinees (guineveres, current exchange G7.26 to the ZAR) teaching other residents English.
       skyward*'s avatar is looking uglier than usual, a stubby obese woman with a lumpy bald head and features on the wrong side of a mix of Asian and black. He says it's so people underestimate him, because even in game space everyone wants to be skinny and beautiful. I couldn't be bothered with the customising, I just uploaded a photograph and skinned it direct to my avatar. It's more honest.
       I spent more time on doing up my place. It's pretty humble, designed to be bio-friendly, all recyclable materials, solar panels on the ceiling, a wind farm in the garden. Not that you need to generate energy in-world, but it's the principle. It's a shining example to throw into contrast the kind of excesses the neighbourhood attracts, which is why I chose this location specifically.
       It's a recreation of the LA hills, which pulls in celeb wannabes by the dumpload, all avatared to resemble their current favourites, living or deceased, the Cary Grants and Tupacs and Gwyneths and Engelica Ks. The fankids go totally overboard, doing all this research online, re-creating every detail, right down to the brand of soy milk their celebrity keeps in the fridge or the mosaic tiling in the bathroom or the guest lists for their parties. Sometimes there's more than one celeb clone in the neighbourhood, and then they get into this bullshit competitive crap about who's keeping it more real. It's a symptom of everything that's wrong with our culture.
       I click the conversation window, and immediately, skyward* throws up a personal firewall that locks us into private chat.

>>skyward*: hey.
    >> 10: Sup in the Dam, my man? Listen, I'm thinking of calling it off, I got watchlisted today.
    >> skyward*: you're gonna have to be more careful. come on, we should take a walk.
    >>10: Yeah. Okay.

    It's dead quiet this time, past midnight in Japan, so only the most devout of players are online, and I don't know why skyward* is antsy about eavesdroppers, especially in my home. But I'm not gonna take issue if he wants to play it noir. Avalon LA lends itself to that. We step outside my domicile and walk down the driveway into the night, which is far brighter than realworld, every star visible, every orbit hotel and satellite.
       We set off into the wilderness around the apartments, modelled on an idealised movie versioning of Mulholland Drive, so no gated communities, no Mexican labour riots, and there are even virtual coyotes,