You know that moment when, immediately after you have made a big decision, your shoulders feel a little lighter, you can stand a little taller and you don’t think of the problems ahead? You’re just glad you’ve made up your mind?

It only lasts for seconds.

Then Philip says, ‘I was right: here they come. If you want my advice, we need to get out of here.’

Through the front window I see six creatures, led by Dark Hair Streak, come out of the passageway, running towards the spaceship.

Philip powers up quickly and the ship vibrates.

‘Activate the VI!’ I say.

And Philip says, ‘Roger that. VI activated. But they know we’re here.’

By now our pursuers are banging on the side, and one has brought an enormous tool that he is swinging at the door.

‘That looks like a sledgehammer,’ I say, as it contacts the door with a loud clanging thud.

‘Old school,’ says Philip, ‘but effective. He’ll be through in a few more blows. You strapped in? Too bad …’

I am thrown violently against the wall of the cockpit as the spaceship lurches to one side. In front of us, and a little higher, a gap in the roof opens up – a widening slot that gets bigger as another hammer blow rocks the spaceship. I feel the craft rising from the ground and heading slowly for the slot in the roof, which has widened sufficiently to let us through.

But then the opening starts to close.

Philip says, ‘They’ve located the roof override system. We may not make it through. Hang on!’

It’s too late to hang on to anything. Instead I am thrown to the other side of the cockpit, banging my head and elbow hard. The craft is on its side and nearly at the slot in the roof, which is surely too narrow to get through. I close my eyes to await the inevitable impact …

… And we’re through. I would sigh with relief, but I’m on the floor nursing my cracked elbow with my left hand.

‘Are we safe?’ I pant through spasms of pain.

‘For the time being,’ replies Philip. ‘I just need to run some external damage checks, and activate the … I don’t know what you would call it. It sends out a dummy signal and stops us being tracked by the Advisor. This may take a while. We’ll be cruising at a low level and there may be some sharp movements as we avoid other airborne vehicles that cannot see us.’

As he says the words, I feel the craft move abruptly to the right, and Philip says, ‘Like that.’

We straighten up. ‘You can get a great view of our country and, by the way, that was pretty cool – that thing about doing your best. It’s one of the reasons I totally dig humans. You got that whole “noble” thing goin’ on. We ain’t seen that on Anthalla for, like, centuries. Not since the Big Burn. Do you have a plan?’

‘A plan?’ I squeak. ‘What sort of a plan? Oh, yes, hang on – now that I think about it, I do have one, because I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be on a rescue mission on an alien planet with a talking spaceship.’

There is a pause, then Philip says, ‘That was sarcasm, right?’

I say nothing, but wonder if it is possible to hurt the feelings of a bot.

‘Listen, kid,’ Philip says after a moment. ‘I’m gonna take you to where this thing all started. There is a chance we could end it there.’

I am beyond arguing.

Philip interprets my silence as permission.

‘Cool. Sit back, relax and enjoy our range of gourmet snacks prepared by Anthalla’s most skilled chefs.’

‘You’re kidding!’ I say with delight. ‘That’s great news – I’m starving.’

‘You’re right. I was kidding. Call it revenge for your sarcasm. Anthallans don’t really have taste buds like you do, so there’s no need for chefs, skilled or otherwise. You’ll find water and greest in the little locker behind your head. It’s safe for humans.’

I gaze out of the front screen at the ground below. It is daytime and the sky is pure white with cloud. Stretching as far as I can see, ahead and to the right, are small, flat-topped rectangles of grey-beige, arranged in rigid lines. To my left, the little boxes stop in a line before a flat expanse of steel-grey which, I guess, is the sea.

Every now and then there is a square gap in the boxes – perhaps as big as a couple of football fields – and I can see people – well, Anthallans – gathered together and walking to and fro on the black surface. Then the boxes start again, row after row of them. There are hardly any trees. There are no brightly lit billboards, or skyscrapers glinting in the sun, or silver rivers winding through the city.

The whole thing looks as though it is made from Lego: black, grey, white and beige. And it stretches on, and on, and on.

I get up and look for the opening that Philip said contained food. Even the thought of food is making my mouth water. I think of Mam’s pies from the pub: golden, crispy pastry and creamy mash with thick gravy. Or Gran’s hot chocolate, especially when she does squirty cream on the top. I have to swallow my saliva, I’m drooling so much …

There is a small square door cut into the back of the cabin. I touch it and it pops open, a blast of cold air coming from within, to reveal little blocks of greyish-white.

‘We call it greest,’ says Philip. ‘It is a plant-based synthetic food that contains all the nutrients required for health.’

‘So you grow it?’ I touch a cube with my tongue.

‘We … they … manufacture it. It is pretty much all they eat. It is perfect food. The humans in the Earth Zone all eat it. It’s fine.’

I am still looking warily at it, even though I could probably eat a horse and its saddle, I am that hungry. I put a square in my mouth and chew. It tastes of absolutely nothing, but it’s not horrible. It’s a bit like tofu. I finish my cube, then take a few more, then a few more until I feel the pain in my stomach receding.

‘Is this all they have to eat?’ I ask Philip in wonder.

Philip replies, ‘Yes. It is satisfactory. Whoops, tracker beam incoming – I’ve gotta shut down the verbals or they’ll interfere with the anti-tracker thing …’

The craft lurches slightly then rights itself, and Philip is silent.

With a belly that’s full for the first time in what seems like days, I feel drowsy.

Eventually, I am bored of looking at the unimaginable dullness of the city below me; my eyelids feel heavy and I fall into the deepest sleep.

When I awake, the craft is still. It has landed and the front section has retracted so that I can feel the real heat of the sun on my face, and a light breeze. The Lego boxes are nowhere to be seen. Instead I am looking at trees: pine trees, towering Douglas firs and twisty ash. There are densely packed bushes, and the floor is carpeted with dry pine needles and mossy rocks. I take a deep breath in through my nose. It smells exactly like home, only warmer … drier. The blanket of cloud has cleared. A strong sun shines in a blue sky, and a stiff, warm breeze agitates the trees’ branches.

I close my eyes again and sigh with a deep sadness at the realisation that I have been dreaming. I don’t really want to open them again because I’d like to keep the image fresh of the deep, rich forest greens and rusty browns of the tree trunks …

‘Ethan?’ It is Philip’s voice.

Perhaps I can just stay here in this dream, I wonder to myself, and I take another deep sniff of home.

‘Hey, kid? Open your eyes, buddy.’

It is not a dream.