He was beginning to hear words coming from Marlon’s mouth, which pulled him out of the imaginary world and brought him back into the Internet café in the Philippines. Marlon, who had played almost silently for the last couple of hours, was now communicating directly, in Mandarin, with one of his lieutenants. Or perhaps they were generals. Csongor could only speculate at the size of his army now. Marlon’s voice was calm, quiet, but insistent, and his hands were prancing around the keyboard like spiders on a hot skillet.