He'd been dreading the visit for a long time now.

He knew he couldn't face the man – no, the boy the sad thing had become. And he would always be the boy. That sad husk in there had never reached manhood. Not since the Crash.

The old sign of the hospital had been painted over, but it was still clear: Interweb Mental Institution.

It had been painted over with the words: Interweb Institution For the Differently Sane. The political correctness plague had struck the hospital, just as it had everything else.

It was a clean building, though. White marble, white pavement, perfect green shrubbery. It looked like quite a nice place, until you went inside.

The two guards nodded at Howie as he walked through the gates. A nurse, dressed all in white, smiling a fake little smile that wavered at the edges, ushered him in.

The foyer was tidy and clean and sterile. It stunk like disinfectant, and insanity. The secretary smiled at him.

'How may I help you, sir?' she said, typing a meaningless stream of letters onto her keyboard as to look busy and official.

Howie shifted uncomfortably. 'I'm here to meet . . . ClouD,' he said, and added with a wink: 'But not the ones outside.' The secretary did not seem to find it amusing. He winked again, just in case.

He leant forward. 'It was a joke, you see,' he said. 'Referring to the name of the patient in relation to clouds. That is, the phenomena known as precipi-'

The secretary grinned. She was used to working with mad people.

'Nurse Daniel will lead you there,' she said, finishing off her meaningless stream of letters with an emphatic “PENIS”. 'He cares for ClouD personally, the poor thing. I'll just fetch him.'

She pressed the button for the intercom and said into it: 'Nurse Daniel to foyer. We have a visitor for Patient 666.'

Time passed.

'666?' said Howie. 'Isn't that a bit . . . unfair?'

The secretary shrugged. 'It had to go to someone. And we certainly couldn't give it to Mr Natas, that would just be cruel.'

'Why? What's wrong with Mr Natas?'

The secretary grinned, without any mirth. 'You'll see, I suspect.' She looked over his shoulder. Howie followed her gaze.

There was someone very familiar there. He had a wild, crazy beard, which covered his mouth completely, and joined with his hair, leaving only a pair of eyes and a nose visible, which peered at him suspiciously. And he smelled like the love-child of a toilet and a cesspit. He might have been grinning or scowling; you couldn't tell through the beard.

It was Daniel Danciu. It was obvious from the first moment he saw him. Last time he'd seen him, he had a spam-arrow embedded in his head. He didn't now.

Howie decided not to mention it.

He grinned. Daniel simply gestured and said, 'This way, sir.' He walked off into an elevator. The doors of the elevator began to close.

'I believe you are missing the elevator, sir,' called Daniel from inside. Howie hurried after him, and slipped inside just in time.

Daniel was staring resolutely at the bleak metal sides of the elevator. Howie sighed.

'I know it's you, Danciu. You can't hide from me. I know everyone,' said Howie.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Daniel. 'My name is Daniel Craig.'

'Daniel Craig?' said Howie. 'Well, you can always dream.'

'I do not dream, sir,' said Daniel. 'With all respect, dreaming is just hoping with it's socks pulled up.'

'You used to dream,' said Howie with a sigh. 'We all used to.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, sir. Now, it seems we're here . . .'

The elevator slid to a halt. The doors opened, with a faint pinging sound.

A tortured scream met his ears immediately, followed by a spurt of manic laughter. Howie drew back in horror.

'Do not worry, sir,' said Daniel, strolling out. 'The screams are normal. I believe they are coming from Mr Herr.'

'Why?' said Howie, cautiously stepping out. 'What are you doing to him?'

'Nothing, sir. I suspect that is the problem.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Mr Herr tends to overreact to things,' said Daniel. 'He may be a trifle bored, or perhaps a bit peckish. I shall just stop along at his door.'

Daniel stopped at a padded door labelled 664. He took out a key-ring, and selected one in record time.

'You may have to stand back, sir,' said Daniel over his shoulder as the door swung open. Howie did so, and a second later a dart flew out and hit the wall, bouncing off.

'I'm playing darts!!' said an excited voice from inside.

'Very good, Mr Herr. What was all the screaming about, if I may ask?'

'Hungry, hungry, hungry, Mr Diddle. HUNGRY AS A HIPPO, I SAY. HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS!!' There was a bout of coughing from inside.

'I believe I have a sandwich, Mr Herr. Egg, I believe.'

'I would like my dart back, Mr Dinwiddie. Thank you for the breadstuff. The wolves will enjoy it.'

'I'm sure they will, Mr Herr.' Daniel poked his head out for a moment, and grabbed the dart off the floor.

'Here we go, Mr Herr. Enjoy your day.'

'If only Esme were here. We could bake up a pancake in those days, I say!'

'Very good, Mr Herr.'

The door closed. Daniel waved a hand. 'Come along.'

'You give that man darts?' said Howie, running after Daniel.

'Completely fake,' said Daniel. 'What do you take me for, sir, a savage?'

'Oh, no. And who is Esme?'

'No one, as far as we can tell. Completely imaginary. From what we can gain from his ramblings, however, she seems to be adept at making pancakes, waffles, and related foodstuffs.'

They continued on past door 665. Laughter was coming from the room.

'Well, he seems to be happy,' said Howie.

'One of the least happy people I know,' said Daniel. 'That's Mr Natas' room. He believes he's the devil. We think he's working on his maniacal laughter. He'll continue like that until he goes to sleep, but only after we give him his teddy bear, as well.'

They arrived at door 666. There was a shift in Daniel's beard that might just have been a smile. 'Now,' he said. 'The gentleman ClouD.'

He unlocked the door, putting his finger to his lips: be silent.

The door swung open.

Inside was a boyish man, around twenty. He had long, messy blonde hair, but none on his face.

'You've shaved him well,' said Howie in a quiet voice.

'What? Oh, no. He just hasn't developed facial hair yet, it seems. It's rather puzzling.'

'Maybe it's Internet Prepubescence,' said Howie, looking sadly at his old friend.

'IP? We're quite sure that he does have it, but every time we try to tell him, he protests about being labelled. And what can you say to that?'

'Nothing,' said Howie, shaking his head. 'Absolutely nothing.'

ClouD had a laptop in his, well, lap. He was continuously pressing keys on it, and a constant stream of muttering escaped his lips.

Howie and Daniel drew closer. 'What is that he's muttering?' whispered Howie.

'We recorded some of it once,' said Daniel. 'As far as we can tell . . . all he's saying is the word “Moderator” over and over again.'

'Oh dear,' breathed Howie.

ClouD suddenly snapped his head up. He focused on Daniel for a moment, and grinned. Then he looked over to Howie. His eyes lit up.

'My fellow staff member!' he said. 'I have been moderating! I have been keeping the noble laws of Dreamviews upheld!'

'You remember me?' said Howie, smiling grimly.

'Of course!' said ClouD. 'You are a staff member, like I am. I am a staff member for Dreamviews.'

'Yes,' said Howie sadly. 'Yes you were.'

ClouD leaned forward, as if letting go of a deep secret. 'I think you confused are and were there, fellow staff member. Because I am a staff member for Dreamviews. I am a Moderator.'

'Dreamviews hasn't been up since the Crash,' said Howie kindly. 'We all know that.'

ClouD frowned. 'The Crash, fellow staff member?'

Howie looked to Daniel for help, who nodded at the laptop in ClouD's hands. Howie slid beside ClouD and looked at the laptop.

The screen was empty apart from, scrawled in blue marker: Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member).

ClouD looked up at Howie, grinning madly. 'Did you know that A Roxxor is actually Seismosaur, fellow staff member? I've banned him, with my Moderating powers. Because I am a Moderator for Dreamviews, fellow staff member.' He pointed to some writing below “Dreamviews”.

Scrawled there were the words: A ROXXOR IS ACTUALLY SEISMOSAUR. HE IS BANNED.

Next to it was a badly drawn hammer, hitting a stick figure in the head. And below that: I HAVE BANNED A ROXXOR (WHO WAS ACTUALLY SEISMOSAUR!!!)

'Well done,' said Howie kindly. 'How are you doing, ClouD?'

'My welfare is of no concern. I am moderating Dreamviews,' hissed ClouD. He turned back to his laptop.

Howie drew Daniel to one side.

'He's obsessed with Dreamviews!' he said.

'Despite not knowing what Dreamviews is, sir, I would be forced to agree,' said Daniel, shaking his head at ClouD.

'We promoted him because it sounded like a good idea at the time. We never knew this would happen!'

They both stared in silence at ClouD's frantically tapping fingers.

'Is it all right if I have some time alone with him?' said Howie.

Daniel looked affronted for a moment. 'But-' he began.

'Please,' said Howie.

Daniel hesitated. 'All right,' he said. 'But just a few minutes.'

'Of course,' said Howie. With any luck, a few minutes would be all he needed. Daniel left, leaving them alone.

Howie sat in front of ClouD again. 'I need a favour,' he said after a while.
ClouD paused for a moment. 'A favour?' he said.

'I need to know where people are. I need to know what they're doing. People from Dreamviews.'

'Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member)?'

'Yes,' said Howie quietly. 'I'm rebuilding it. I'm raising Dreamviews again, ClouD! Bigger and better!'

ClouD looked down at his laptop. 'But Dreamviews is alive,' he said. 'In fact, Carousoul just posted a rather amusing comment. I have responded with “Lul”.'

'Of course,' said Howie. 'It must have slipped my mind. I still need people, though. We're . . . having a get together.'

'A get together!' said ClouD. 'Of fellow people from Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member)!'

'Yes. I need names, and locations. I know you wrote them down. You liked to make lists of your “Top People”.'

'I still do, fellow staff member,' said ClouD. 'I do believe I have a list in here somewhere . . .'

ClouD began to rummage around in his pockets. He withdrew a crumpled piece of paper. Howie reached out to take it, but ClouD pulled it back and sniffed it carefully. 'Minty!' he said, and handed it over. Howie sniffed it carefully. It did not smell minty at all.

'Thank you for this, ClouD. My eternal gratefulness.'

'Can I come?' said ClouD. 'To the meeting? To see my fellow staff members?'

'I doubt they'll let you come,' said Howie. 'But just in case . . .'

He ripped a corner off the list, and wrote and address down. He handed it to ClouD.

'Go there before the 8th of November, if you get the opportunity. That's the meeting place.'

ClouD nodded sagely. He secreted away the address somewhere in his grubby clothes, and turned back to his laptop.

With a remarkable sense of occasion, Daniel poked his head through the doorway. 'Time's up,' he said quietly. Howie nodded. He turned to ClouD, who was staring madly at his laptop.

'Good luck, friend,' said Howie. 'Live long and prosper.'

'Live long and prosper?' said Daniel, as they exited the room. 'Really?'

Howie coughed. 'It seemed appropriate,' he said haughtily. Daniel gave a short bark of laughter.

'It seems to me,' he said, 'there's not a lot of life going on round here, and absolutely no prospering.'

'Do you want to come to the meeting?' said Howie. 'You'd be a good asset.'

'I do not know what you're talking about,' said Daniel. 'This way, sir . . .'

And Howie left, to the mad laughter of Mr Natas.