32 A Flying Visit

Part Three ...in which Rockwell comes into his own

32 A Flying Visit Right, I'll be off then,' said Rockwell to Peanut, Little-Bit and Doodle as they stood in the storeroom at the top of the Spire. 'Say goodbye to the others for me and, well, look after yourselves.' Then he turned the graphite door handle, opened the illustrated door and walked through, pulling it shut behind him. And just like that, he was back in his bedroom on the seventh floor of Morse Tower. ' Rocky, is that you?' It was his mother, calling from the kitchen having heard the door close.

'Hi, Mum! Yes, it's me,' he replied. ' Sorry. I, er, just dropped something. His mind was racing. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Had he really left Chroma and his friends, just as the celebrations were about to start? It had all escalated so quickly. One minute he was explaining his worries about 67 to Peanut, the next she was drawing a door for him to walk through and leave the city. He took a deep breath and attempted to gather his thoughts. He asked himself the same question he always asked himself when facing a problem: what would Luke Skywalker do in this situation? The answer was always the same: he would search his feelings. So, Rockwell did exactly that. He thought carefully about everything that 67 had said and done, replaying every incident in his mind. Had his suspicions about 67 arisen just because they'd insulted him, like Peanut had said? Was Rockwell's insecurity colouring his judgement? Was he jealous, maybe? He considered everything carefully and concluded that the answer to all of these questions was 'no'. In fact, he was now doubly sure that there was something suspicious about that RAZER's behaviour. He looked back at the illustrated door. The graphite handle had just started to crumble, the fine silvery powder drifting slowly down to the carpet.

It's now or never, Rockwell thought. 'Mum, I'm just nipping out,' he shouted. 'OK, darling! Make sure you're back in time for tea,' she replied. One hour in the real world was worth twenty-four in Chroma, so Rockwell knew he still had plenty of time before dinner. He grabbed the remains of the graphite handle and turned it. To his relief, the latch clicked. He pushed open the door just as it started disintegrating and stepped through. Back into Chroma.