The Millennium Dome was full of people, mostly families with children running around. Everything was brightly lit with projected images and a large sculptural figure towered over us. I wondered for a moment why people were staring at us, before I remembered we were covered in mud and dust from the tunnel.
We walked past a row of video projections, with animated figures and brightly coloured adverts. One of the figures seemed familiar, and as I looked closer I realised it was none other than Mr Smith, staring at us from within the screen.
The taxi driver grabbed my arm. “Of course.. he’s in the O2, in 2010,” he said, before reaching out and touching the projection screen. The image wobbled and seemed to liquefy. “Come on,” he said, and we both jumped over the barrier and right into the middle of the screen.
It made a huge crash, and we landed on the other side. But instead of being amongst the toys and games of the Dome, we were on the floor outside a restaurant, covered in pieces of glass, in what was now the O2. A waiter ran out of the restaurant and beckoned to some security guards. “Over here! They just jumped through my window!”
Ten minutes later we were sitting in a drab security office; the guard had left us in there and locked the door. We were surrounded by CCTV monitors and at one point I saw Mr Smith wandering around outside Pizza Express. I’d seen him on two different screens recently, except the first time was apparently ten years ago.
The taxi driver pulled a paper clip out of his pocket and began to try and pick the lock. I glanced around the room and saw a box labelled ‘Lost and Found” with the leg of a toy sticking out. It looked similar to the bear that had the diamond in, except this one had its arm still intact.
He eventually managed to open the door but as he opened it someone rushed past us and grabbed the bear out of the box.
We followed the person, who was wearing a long coat and a hat. They ran through the doors to the main arena, where a rock concert was taking place. It must have been near the end as the security guards didn’t seem to mind us going in. It was a side door and we were right next to some huge speakers and the music was deafeningly loud. I was glad when they pushed their way through the crowd to a different exit and we were back in the main concourse.
As we passed the cinema doors I saw Mr Smith at last in front of us. “Stop them!” I shouted to him and he grabbed the bear thief by the shoulders. The hat fell off to reveal long brown hair; we had been following a woman.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” said Mr Smith, then turning to us said, “Allow me to introduce my wife.”
“I’m getting the diamond like you asked me to!” she replied.
I gave Mr Smith a puzzled look. I thought we’d discovered the diamond together in the Pilot Inn?
She took the bear by both its arms and ripped it open, its stuffing falling out onto the floor. There was nothing else inside this bear. “Where is it?” she asked desperately.
“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” Mr Smith held the stone up and we all stared at him. But there was something different, it wasn’t sparkling in the same way as before. I moved closer to him and it was then that I saw the imprint in tiny letters: MADE IN CHINA.
The taxi driver grabbed my arm. “Of course.. he’s in the O2, in 2010,” he said, before reaching out and touching the projection screen. The image wobbled and seemed to liquefy. “Come on,” he said, and we both jumped over the barrier and right into the middle of the screen.
It made a huge crash, and we landed on the other side. But instead of being amongst the toys and games of the Dome, we were on the floor outside a restaurant, covered in pieces of glass, in what was now the O2. A waiter ran out of the restaurant and beckoned to some security guards. “Over here! They just jumped through my window!”
Ten minutes later we were sitting in a drab security office; the guard had left us in there and locked the door. We were surrounded by CCTV monitors and at one point I saw Mr Smith wandering around outside Pizza Express. I’d seen him on two different screens recently, except the first time was apparently ten years ago.
The taxi driver pulled a paper clip out of his pocket and began to try and pick the lock. I glanced around the room and saw a box labelled ‘Lost and Found” with the leg of a toy sticking out. It looked similar to the bear that had the diamond in, except this one had its arm still intact.
He eventually managed to open the door but as he opened it someone rushed past us and grabbed the bear out of the box.
We followed the person, who was wearing a long coat and a hat. They ran through the doors to the main arena, where a rock concert was taking place. It must have been near the end as the security guards didn’t seem to mind us going in. It was a side door and we were right next to some huge speakers and the music was deafeningly loud. I was glad when they pushed their way through the crowd to a different exit and we were back in the main concourse.
As we passed the cinema doors I saw Mr Smith at last in front of us. “Stop them!” I shouted to him and he grabbed the bear thief by the shoulders. The hat fell off to reveal long brown hair; we had been following a woman.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” said Mr Smith, then turning to us said, “Allow me to introduce my wife.”
“I’m getting the diamond like you asked me to!” she replied.
I gave Mr Smith a puzzled look. I thought we’d discovered the diamond together in the Pilot Inn?
She took the bear by both its arms and ripped it open, its stuffing falling out onto the floor. There was nothing else inside this bear. “Where is it?” she asked desperately.
“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” Mr Smith held the stone up and we all stared at him. But there was something different, it wasn’t sparkling in the same way as before. I moved closer to him and it was then that I saw the imprint in tiny letters: MADE IN CHINA.
