tle
long in the tooth. He'd start pushing fudge-nut dips, and by the end of his
shift, the tub would be empty and he'd be able to give it a thorough cleaning
and a refill from fresh stock. "Hey guys!" he called to three boys. "Is anybody
_hungry_?" He dipped a floss and held it up, so that it oozed fudge down his
wrist. The boys shyly approached his booth. George knew from their manner that
they were new to the Island: probably just picked up from a video-arcade or
lasertag tent on the mainland that afternoon. They didn't know what to make of
their surroundings, that was clear.

"Step right up," he said, "I don't bite!" He smiled a smile he'd practiced in
the mirror, one that shaped his soft, flexible features into a good-natured
expression of idiotic fun. Cautiously, the boys came forward. They were the
target age, eleven-to-fourteen, and they'd already accumulated some merch,
baseball hats and fanny packs made from neoprene in tropical-fish colours,
emblazoned with the Island's logomarks and character trademarks. They had the
beginnings of dark circles under their eyes, and they dragged a little with low
blood-sugar. George dipped two more and distributed them around. The eldest, a
towheaded kid near the upper age range, said, "Mister, we haven't got any money
-- what do these cost?"

George laughed like a freight train. "It's all free, sonny, free as air!
Courtesy of the Management, as a reward for very _special_ customers like you."
This was scripted, but the trick was to sell the line like it was fresh.

The boys took the cones from him timidly, but ate ravenously. George gave them
some logoed serviettes to wipe up with and ground the fudge into his wrists and
forearms with one of his own. He looked at his watch and consulted the laminated
timetable taped to the counter. 1300h, which meant that the bulk of the Guests
would be migrating towards Actionland and the dinosaur rides, and it was time to
push the slightly down-at-the-heels FreakZone, to balance the crowds. "You boys
like rollercoasters?" he said.

The youngest -- they were similar enough in appearance and distant enough in
ages to be brothers -- spoke up. "Yeah!" The middle elbowed him, and the
youngest flipped the middle the bird.

"Well, if you follow the midway around this curve to the right, and go through
the big clown-mouth, you'll be in the FreakZone. We've got a fifteen-storey
coaster called _The Obliterator_ that loops fifty times in five minute