The sky was clear above him, so he iconified the roof to let the sun in and dropped down to a steady 36 Baud, at which the engine hummed like a cat beneath him. The highway was busy today; unsurprisingly as it was the weekend and people usually went out for a cruise. Most of them were obviously newcomers to the area, as they were streaming towards the Main Three tourist attractions - the Beach of Shifting Sands, the temple of McDonald and the library of Mirage; but there were several other travellers who, like him, were more content in the back alleyways and shortcuts of the lesser pages.

He waved a greeting to another traveller - obviously someone in a hurry as they were zipping along in the latest Lynx model - and tried to decide where to head to today. Eventually he settled on his usual plan which was to follow several routes almost at random and just see where he got to. Fortunately it was difficult to get lost here since the Main Three were almost always in sight. Not like a couple of years ago...

As a long-time traveller of the FanFicSuperhighway he knew its history pretty well. There weren't that many here who could remember when all you had was HawkWay, one single giant road from which thousands of tiny hamlets grew. Originally it served the traffic fine. However, once prosperity had hit the region and the hamlets began to grow at an incredible rate, the inevetiable happened and HawkWay collapsed due to lack of money.

With the demise of HawkWay the whole place had been in turmoil, a huge sprawling mass of links and routes with about as much organisation as the entire Summers family tree. He'd heard rumours about travellers who'd spent entire days lost in the back roads, eventually finding themselves facing a sign saying 'Welcome to The Complete History of Sponges. Have a Nice Day.'

It was after that that the great council came together and built the CFAN bypass, and designed the Main Three around which everything would center. Nowadays getting where you wanted was as simple as your average Microsoft programmer.

Which of course made it slightly more difficult to get lost, what with decent FAQ's up at every roundabout. But still, with patience and dilligent effort he managed to lose sight of the Main Three and entered previously unknown territory.

He checked the Modem. 'Getting low on Nynex free credit,' he thought. 'See if there's anywhere to re-fill.' Following a couple of signs for re-fuelling he arrived at a small garage and drove up to the credit tanks. The place was quiet. As he got out of the Browser he noticed the background wallpaper had gone dark and the moon had risen, without him having done anything. Muttering curses to himself about Win'95 he went up to greet the bored-looking petrol attendant.

"Evenin'," the young man said, flicking back a baseball cap.

"Evenin'," he replied. "Can you do me a re-fill?"

The young man walked over to where his Browser was parked. "Hmm... 4.0 model, eh? Don't see many of them round this way."

"Gonna be a problem?" he asked, thinking he might have to make his way back via the old Lynx he had stored in the cache.

"Naah. Just might take a while, that's all. Whereabouts're you heading to, anyway?"

"Not sure really. Just thought I'd try somewhere different. I started at the Main Three a while ago and kept moving."

The young man whistled quietly through his teeth. "The Main Three, eh? Well you're a fair way away from there; I doubt you'll find much in the way of the usual 'fics around here."

"Oh?" His curiousity was piqued. "Where is here, then?"

"Difficult to say, really. Somewhere to the left of dreams, not too far from delusion and slightly further north than You've Fallen Asleep At Your Terminal. I think." The attendent moved over to the Browser and started opening it up.

"So how long might this take?" he asked.

"A while. You need an overhaul of the WYSIWYG and to clean out the cache. A few hours, maybe?"

"Ah." He pondered. Hanging around here for a few hours was not his idea of fun. Maybe he could see how far the old Lynx would get him before it crashed. Maybe to somewhere with some food...

"You know anywhere around here I can get something to eat?" he asked.

The young man looked thoughtful. "Well there's a cafe just down the road from here. Doesn't normally cater to your sort...but it's a quiet night, so you could try."

"I'll give it a go. Which way?"

The attendent pointed further down the road. "Tell you what, the bouncer there should be a guy named Dean. Tell him I sent you and he should be alright about letting you in."

"Cheers. What's your name, then?"

"Just tell him Perkolator sent you."

A short while later he could hear the sounds of a cafe nearby. Good timing too since the old Lynx he was using was on its last legs after three years of steady use. It finally crashed on him a couple of junctions before the cafe and he had to make the remainder of the journey by foot, navigating the treacherous ground of HTML code and picking out the safe HTTP tags with the practised ease of someone who'd been doing this a long time. Which he had.

The cafe was small, and looked old. A flashing sign saying 'Subreality Cafe' shone brilliant neon into the sky. A smaller sign beneath it in slightly more subdued colours added 'Don't Blame Us - We Didn't Ask for This'. It hadn't been re-decorated in a long while and bore signs of the old Gopher and Archie vehicles that were used in days gone by, but still it exuded the Lynx-friendly warmth and "No Frames Please" atmosphere that he liked in a page, so he headed to the door.

Standing by the door was someone who was clearly a bouncer; large, well-built and holding a bottle of whisky with the top broken off from which half the contents had already been drunk. Standing infront of the bouncer was a short hairy man who seemed to be having problems getting in. He could hear the voices clearly.

"Look, bub, I'll make it simple. I wanna get in and get a brew. Got it?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but this bar isn't for mainstreams. Rules are rules."

The short man sighed. "Ok, I'll put it like this. You know how many stories have been written about me that completely screw with my character?"

"Well yes, sir, but I'm afraid you're still mainstream. I can't let you in. Besides, all your stories are written in the Perriverse, who always gets your character right."

"Lissen, bub. I've got more stories on the Mighty Marvel Mutants Parody Page than I can count. Now those aren't in character." He leaned forward and a strange sound came across the cold night air. snikt. "Plus, if it wasn't for me, all of this stuff" he gestured around him, "wouldn't even be here. With me now?"

The bouncer sighed and let the short man in.

"'Scuse me a moment, mate," the bouncer said as he moved towards the door. He stopped.

"Something wrong?" he asked, in what he hoped was a polite manner. The bouncer looked at him critically.

"Sorry mate, I can't let you in. You're a reader. Not supposed to be in here."

"Oh give us a chance," he replied, trying to be friendly. "I've been travelling for hours, I'm starving hungry and my 4.0 is stuck twenty links up the road being sorted out. Let us in, would ya?"

"Sorry." The bouncer at least looked vaguely sorry about it. "Rules are rules, ya know?"

"Look, I was sent here by Perkolator. He said it'd be a good place to get some food."

The bouncer's face lightened in recognition of the name. "Perkolator, huh?" He drew a breath and looked thoughtful. "Well, he wouldn't have sent you here if you were a newbie." He paused. "Go on then."

"Cheers," the reader said, and entered the cafe.

It was pretty empty inside, the sound of muted conversation almost competing in volume with the jukebox in the corner from which the sounds of Tom Lehrer's little known "Mutating Mutants in the Park" was just about finishing. There were a few straggly people hanging around the bar, a couple of groups sitting at tables, and a strange patch of undefined haze over to one corner with a sign saying 'Burning Futures' in brilliant neon. True to form there was a smaller sign underneath saying 'Don't even try and figure it out.'

To the reader's left there was a young man sitting on his own, looking depressed. Over his head hung a hand-written sign saying 'Hank McCoy fan club'. As the reader watched a woman moved over to sit with him.

"Hiya, Kyle. Slow tonight?"

The man looked up. "Oh, hi Dawn. Yeah. You could say that."

"So where's everyone else?"

"Well Siku's kinda busy at the moment, what with all this alternate reality stuff and being such hot property anyway. Most of the rest of them couldn't make it 'cause they're Writers - we normally hold this in the writer's bar y'know."

"But I thought Kielle and Tapestry had been here before without trouble," Dawn said.

"Yeah, but that was on writer's night. The only one who's been here outside then was Falstaff, and he's hardly a Beast fan."

"Hmm," she said in commiseration. "Well Lis and Darqstar and the others are probably over in the Writer's bar now. Why not go and join them?"

Kyle sighed and looked at his watch. "Because I'm waiting for Cassie."

"Oh, haven't you heard? She's being written again."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Apparently her writer got so many messages asking for more she had to start up again. Lucky break, huh?"

"Sure is," Kyle replied. "Y'know she really does get lucky, Cassie. I mean, she's been consistently written for what, two years now? And pretty much nothing has happened to her except she's going out with Uncle Hank."

"True," replied Dawn. "But at least we get powers. Cassie was forced to fail in a self-defence lesson..."

The reader moved on towards the bar, intent on getting some food. Behind the bar was a nondescript person wearing a white T-shirt. Written on the front in large letters were the words 'The Manager'. Underneath it in slightly smaller letters were the words 'Yes, THE Manager'. The Manager nodded politely as he sat down infront of the bar.

"New around here, sir?"

"Yeah. My Browser ran out a little while ago and I'm just hanging around until next month's free credit."

"Thought I hadn't seen you before, sir." The Manager looked closer at him. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, you're a reader, aren't you?"

"Yes," he replied, waiting to be thrown out.

"Well never mind. I'm sure Mr Carter wouldn't have let you in without a good reason. Only you might see some things here you may not have wanted to see, if you know what I mean." The Manager gave him a conspirital wink.

"Uh, no. Not really."

The Manager leaned forward, cleaning a glass. "You do realise where this is, don't you sir?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Well," the Manager put down the glass, preparing for a longer speech. "As a reader, you must be aware of certain...non-mainstream characters the Writers use."

"Oh, you mean fanfic characters? Mary Sue and suchlike?"

"Shush!" The Manager waved him quiet. "Don't mention her name here - you'll bring her here!"

"Who? Mar..."

"SUHSH! For the Scribe's sake don't say her name!" The Manager looked flustered for a moment, then took a deep breath and calmed down. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. You are aware of many fanfic characters, then."

"Oh yes," the reader replied. "I've read hundreds of them."

"Well, sir," the Manager leaned in closer. "Where do you suppose they go when they're not being written?"

The reader looked puzzled for a moment. "What, here?"

"Yes sir."

"I thought I recognized some of the people in this place."

"Yes sir."

The reader looked thoughtful for a moment. "Tell me, do you know of a woman named...Mharie, at all?"

To be continued...?

OK, credits...

Perkolater belongs to David Warner, who is to blame for many things. But not this.

Dawn belongs to Tapestry, who is to blame for this =)

The 'Mutating Mutants in the Park' was a parody written by someone I can't remember on RACMX - an X version of Tom Lehrer's 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park'. Mail me and let me know who you are.

Burning Futures is a strange mess of parody tales written by several people and collected together in a fit of insanity by Andrew Wheeler.

Siku belongs to Darqstar, although she's currently on a timeshare scheme with several other writers.

Kyle also belongs to Darqstar, although she's going to have to fight to keep him from belonging solely to the Subreality Cafe at this rate.

Cassie is the sole property of Susan Crites.

Perriverse, if you don't know, refers to the works of one Perri Smith - Wolverine fan extraordinaire.

Tapestry, Kielle, Falstaff, Lis (RubyLis) and Darqstar belong to themselves as far as I know, and if you want to know why Lis and Darqstar are members of the Hank McCoy fanclub then go read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" by TIC.

Mary Sue is a nickname for the type of fanfic character who unfortunately appears in abundance. She's the one who is obviously a stand in for the author and so starts having sex with the author's favourite character, saving everyone else's arse by being stupidly powerful and generally having the entire attention of a work that is supposed to be fanfic.

Mharie belongs to Amethyst, and I'm sure is the main reason for anyone to go to the Subreality Cafe.

The Manager and the Bouncer belong to Falstaff, although I gave the bouncer his name from a fanfic of mine. (Yeah I know it's self-indulgent. So sue me *grin*)