The O’Hara Affair. Kate Thompson

I know. Shakespeare Island’s always empty. Nobody seems to know about it. Is this your first time here?

       Yes.

      Bethany decided to be proactive. Shall I show you around? she asked.

      I’d like that, he told her.

      I’ll show you the Blackfriars Theatre if you like? she said. It’s this way. Or the Globe?

      I’d like to see the Globe. I’ve been there in real life. Cool! she said.

      Bethany felt a little fizz of excitement in her tummy. None of the other avatars she’d engaged with on Second Life had ever displayed an interest in anything to do with theatre. It was all gross-out movies and soap opera and sex.

      I saw a production of Romeo and Juliet there in April, Hero told her. It was awesome.

       The one with Ellie Kendrick?

       Yes.

      Wow. She was impressed.

      Bethany walked Poppet around the corner and along a street constructed of Tudor-style, half-timbered buildings, pointing things out and chatting as she went. The entrance to the Globe was across a bridge.

      This is awesome, said Hero. They’ve done a great job. It looks just like the real thing.

      Wanna sit down? Poppet suggested.

       Sure.

      The pair of avatars sat themselves down on a wooden bench, and there was a slightly awkward pause as they looked at each other. In Bethany’s experience, conversations on Second Life tended to peter out and residents would often disappear without warning. On numerous occasions Bethany had felt tempted to teleport in the middle of a conversation that was less than riveting, but her good manners always got the better of her.

      Have you been a Second Life resident for long? she asked Hero, then cursed herself for sounding so formal.

       No. I’m a newbie.

       Me too. Met anyone interesting?

       Not really. You’re the first person I’ve had a proper conversation with. There are some real weirdos on here.

       I know. And some real weird places too. I got stuck in a horrible building last week and had to teleport my way out of it.

       What was it like?

      Bethany didn’t want to tell Hero that the building had been a gallery, the walls of which had been lined with pornographic photographs. She’d tried to escape, flying past image after disturbing image, urgently searching for a way out, but she had just kept banging into walls. It had unsettled her deeply, and she’d been wary about the locations she visited since.

      It was just a spooky old house, she lied.

       Were you scared?

       A bit.

       You should take care of yourself on here.

       Don’t worry. I’m a grown-up.

       Over eighteen?

       Yes. You?

       I’m legal.

      Hero stood up, and started to move around the theatre. As he explored, Bethany checked on his profile. Hero had created his avatar just two days after Bethany had created Poppet. He was interested in film and theatre, and his favourite actor was Johnny Depp. He lived in Dublin!

      Hey, said Poppet. You’re Irish! So am I! No shit! What part? Dublin. But I’m in the west right now, in Coolnamara. My parents have a cottage here.

       I know Coolnamara. Aren’t they making a film there?

       Yes. The O’Hara Affair. I’m actually in it!

       Hey! Are you an actress?

      Sadly, no, she confessed. Just an extra. But acting’s what I’d love to do more than anything. I’ve applied to the Gaiety School.

       I hear that’s a great course. I have a friend who’s a casting director. She says the Gaiety students get the most work.

      He had contacts! This was amazing!

       You have a friend in casting? she asked.

       Yeah. I even help out sometimes.

      How?

       She has a small baby. That means she can’t get to all the shows she needs to see. I go on her behalf, and make recommendations.

      What a cool job! Being paid to go to the theatre! Bethany was so excited that she was typing too fast.

      Beats being on the dole, observed Hero.

       Maybe you’ll get to see me in something some day!

       Let me know.

       How?

      A box opened on the top right-hand corner of her screen. Hero is offering friendship, Bethany read.

      Accept me as a friend, Hero continued. Then we’ll know any time we’re online simultaneously. We can meet up here and talk. Maybe we’ll meet other actors. That’s why I came to Shakespeare Island in the first place. I thought it would be full of actors all wanting to chat about things thespian.

       Me too! You’d better not tell them that you work in casting! Then they’ll all be after you to try and get a job!

       Good point. You won’t mention it to anyone, will you?

       Not if you don’t want me to.

       It’s bad enough having to cope with wannabe actors in real life. I don’t want to have to do it in Second Life too!

       LOL!

      A silence fell. But Hero didn’t look twitchy. He didn’t tap his foot, or look away, or scratch his head, as if thinking of something banal to say. Bethany knew he was only an avatar, but she could swear that there was something meaningful about the way he was looking at Poppet.

      I have to go now, he said, finally. When are you likely to be here again?

      I come most evenings. Yikes! Bethany hoped she didn’t sound like too much of a loser. There’s nothing else to do in Lissamore, she added hastily.

       Why don’t you come back to Dublin?

       Because of The O’Hara Affair. I would have gone back with Mum & Dad, but I want to get as much work as I can before I’m a full-time student and broke again.

       Do you live with your parents in Dublin?

       Yes. It’s great to have the place here to myself. There’s no one to nag me about the state of the bathroom.

       LOL. Aren’t you lonely in Lissamore? No. Not with Second Life. I usually hang out with my