Nine hundred years from the peak of his fame, would anyone still recognise the legend of the psychoviro, even if he wore the pink hibiscus shirt and tight white trousers? Perhaps there was a small piece of Adam’s pride that did not want to test his celebrity. At his peak, after defeating the glam gang and saving the Viroverse from a resource crisis, his fame originally was analogous to a reassuringly expensive Bresse chicken breast, freshly seasoned, and expertly sautéed in the finest Beurre d'Echiré. Now, after nearly a millennium of often yawn inducing monthly outings to the Psychoviro, he imagined his fame little more than a tiny frozen chicken nugget – mechanically separated meat with a lurid orange sandpaper-like coating – forgotten at the bottom of the freezer in a grubby nest of crumbs and ice.
Stephen Ayres: Copyright 2016