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The theater was perfectly spherical with matte-black walls, like being inside a bowling ball. Darren climbed halfway up the curved tiers and found a seat with no one on either side of him. The tiers were filling up fast, but Darren stuck his elbows on both armrests, wriggled violently to make the seat mould itself around him, and glared at anyone who approached.
A K’zillan plopped its big squarish body into the seat on his right. Darren turned his glare on the alien, but it seemed cheerfully oblivious that it was invading Darren’s personal space.
It jostled for room on the armrest and Darren conceded — he didn’t like the feel of its coarse fur against his arm. The K’zillan crammed a pawful of popcorn into its mouth and swung its ridiculously small legs. “I’ve heard Realoscope is amazing,” it said, its fluting voice at odds with the hulking body. “Have you seen it before?”
“No,” Darren muttered, looking away from the chomping jaws. K’zillans smelled, too. Maybe he should move — but there were almost no seats left now.
The room seemed to swallow noise, but Darren felt the crowd’s excitement. He frowned in response. Most people were too gullible, too easily swayed by hype. He didn’t expect to be impressed.
A child sat down on Darren’s other side, and returned Darren’s glare with a scowl. No, not a child, a teenager — even worse. At least he was human. He pummeled his seat into a comfortable shape and crammed an oversized drink into the holder at the end of the armrest. Darren relinquished that armrest too, coldly outraged, and folded his arms.
“Seen it yet?” the teenager asked him. Darren pursed his lips and shook his head the tiniest fraction. “It’s great. I’ve seen it twice now. It’s worth every credit.”
The K’zillan leaned forward. “Is it true the images respond to the audience?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s different every time. There’s these snakey things, see, called Broo—Baroov — I can’t pronounce it.”
“Baravuines. They’re from my home system.” The K’zillan sound
[End of Preview.]