There are certain words guaranteed to make adults say, “That sounds educational.”
Ancient Egypt.
It doesn’t matter whether it involves priceless artefacts, a museum gift shop charging eleven pounds for a pencil, or walking around in a computer pretending to be a man who’d been dead for nearly a hundred years. If someone says “Ancient Egypt”, parents become strangely enthusiastic.
Only a week earlier, Mrs Brand had triumphantly marched Barry, Alfie and Marmaduke around the Tutankhamun exhibition in London’s Docklands.
Since then, Barry had spent forty-seven minutes asking if mummies ever sneezed.
Alfie had read every single information board.
Mr Brand had wondered how long a person could stand in front of a gold mask before it became socially acceptable to leave.
So when Marmaduke’s mum, Marjory, rang on Saturday morning with another Egyptian-themed adventure, Mrs Brand was immediately interested.
“I’ve found a virtual reality experience,” Marjory announced excitedly. “You actually become Howard Carter and explore his excavation camp before discovering Tutankhamun’s tomb.”
“That sounds brilliant!” said Mrs Brand.
Barry looked up.
“Can we touch things?”
“Yes, you can try.”
“Can we dig?”
“No.”
“Can we find treasure?”
“Virtually.”
Barry frowned.
“So… no.”
“It’ll look real.”
“It isn’t.”
Mrs Brand ignored him.
Mr Brand looked over his laptop.
“I’d love to come,” he lied with the conviction of a man who absolutely did not want to spend ninety minutes wearing a plastic headset while strangers watched him walk into invisible walls.
“Actually,” he continued, “I’ve got quite a bit of work to catch up on.”
Mrs Brand smiled knowingly.
“Of course you have.”
“I might even… have a nap.”
Barry gasped.
“Daddy! Last time you had a nap I saw you answering emails!”
“I was sleep-emailing.”
“You were typing.”
“I type in my sleep.”
Mrs Brand kissed him on the forehead.
“Enjoy your… nap.”
The front door closed.
Three seconds later…
Ping.
Mr Brand opened his laptop.
“…Right then.”
The virtual reality centre occupied what had once been a warehouse.
The receptionist grinned as they arrived.
“First time?”
“Is it that obvious?” asked Mrs Brand.
“You’ve got three excited children and one adult already taking photos.”
Marjory lowered her phone.
“I like memories.”
“You’ll mostly remember bumping into walls.”
After a safety briefing that Barry ignored almost entirely…
“…don’t run…”
Barry whispered to Marmaduke.
“We’re definitely going to run.”
“…stay within your marked area…”
Barry nodded.
“Definitely leaving that.”
“…and remember, everyone appears as an avatar.”
The instructor handed out headsets.
“When the simulation begins, you’ll all look like Howard Carter.”
Barry blinked.
“Who’s Howard Carter?”
“The archaeologist who discovered Tutankhamun’s tomb.”
“So… I’m pretending to be someone pretending to find someone?”
“…Yes.”
“That’s confusing.”
The world disappeared.
Then…
It returned.
Only different.
Barry looked down.
His body had vanished.
Well…
Mostly.
There was a neat explorer’s torso.
Two sleeves.
Then…
Nothing.
Floating hands.
“What happened to my elbows?” Barry shouted.
Everyone’s voices echoed through headphones.
“I’ve only got hands!” cried Marmaduke.
“My legs have disappeared!” shouted Marjory.
“You still have legs,” laughed the guide. “You just can’t see them.”
Mrs Brand looked around.
Standing nearby were four identical Howard Carters.
Same hat.
Same clothes.
Same moustache.
Each had a glowing number floating above their head.
“Oh goodness,” said Mrs Brand.
“I’m Number Nine!”
“I’m Eight!” called Alfie.
“I’m Twenty-three!” shouted Marmaduke proudly.
“I’m Twelve!” Barry yelled.
Mrs Brand nodded confidently.
“Right.”
Then instantly forgot.
Howard Carter’s excavation camp stretched around them.
Canvas tents flapped gently.
Wooden crates sat neatly stacked.
Tables overflowed with maps, journals and brushes.
A lantern flickered beside Carter’s famous notebook.
“This is amazing,” whispered Alfie.
He picked up a virtual journal.
Every page contained sketches of discoveries.
“It’s exactly like being there.”
Barry poked a crate.
His hand passed straight through it.
“I’ve broken Egypt.”
“No,” laughed the guide. “You can’t damage anything.”
Barry smiled.
“Challenge accepted.”
The group wandered through the camp.
Marjory admired excavation tools.
Mrs Brand inspected Carter’s diary.
Alfie carefully read every information panel.
Naturally.
Meanwhile…
Barry discovered that if he waved his floating hands fast enough…
…they looked like two fluorescent chickens having an argument.
“Marmaduke!”
“What?”
“Look!”
The two boys spent nearly a minute making their ghostly hands dance.
The instructor sighed.
“There are children in every session.”
Eventually the guide announced…
“Please follow me to the entrance of Tutankhamun’s tomb.”
Everyone obediently walked across the sand.
Except Barry.
Barry spotted a tiny virtual lizard.
“Ooooh.”
It wasn’t even interactive.
It was simply decoration.
But Barry followed it anyway.
Marmaduke followed Barry.
Obviously.
The lizard disappeared behind some rocks.
Barry walked around them.
Marmaduke walked around them.
Suddenly…
They couldn’t see everyone else.
Mrs Brand turned.
“Right… everyone here?”
“I am,” said Alfie.
“I’m here,” said Marjory.
“…”
“…”
Mrs Brand froze.
“…Barry?”
Silence.
“Marmaduke?”
Nothing.
She looked around desperately.
There were Howard Carters everywhere.
Visitors from other groups wandered between the ruins.
Every single one looked exactly the same.
“Oh no.”
Above one explorer floated…
Another…
Another…
Another…
Another…
Mrs Brand’s heart started racing.
“What numbers were they?”
Alfie answered instantly.
“Barry’s Twelve. Marmaduke’s Twenty-three.”
Mrs Brand stared blankly.
“I’ve forgotten already.”
“You literally heard me say them.”
“I know!”
“What were they?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Meanwhile…
Barry had discovered another Howard Carter.
“Hello!”
The explorer waved.
“Hello.”
“Are you Marmaduke?”
“No.”
Barry tilted his head.
“Oh.”
“What number are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
Barry nodded.
“Definitely not Marmaduke.”
He wandered off.
Mrs Brand had now entered Full Parent Panic Mode.
This is a condition affecting perfectly sensible adults.
Symptoms include:
• Forgetting simple numbers.
• Assuming children have vanished forever despite being in a supervised building.
• Walking much faster than necessary.
“Excuse me!” she asked another Howard Carter.
“Have you seen… um…”
“…two little Howards?”
The stranger blinked.
“We’re all little Howards.”
“Oh.”
Marjory wasn’t helping.
“I’ve found Number Twelve!”
Mrs Brand rushed over.
“Barry!”
It wasn’t Barry.
It was a seventy-year-old man from Croydon.
He looked very offended.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Sorry!”
Elsewhere…
Barry finally spotted…
“Twenty-three!”
“MARMADUKE!”
“There you are!”
“We got lost.”
“I wasn’t lost.”
“I was.”
“Then I found you.”
“So now we’re found.”
“Exactly.”
Satisfied with solving this enormous geographical challenge, they continued wandering.
They accidentally entered the burial chamber from the wrong direction.
Inside…
The famous golden shrine shimmered.
The walls glowed with painted hieroglyphics.
Treasures sparkled beneath flickering torchlight.
Even Barry stopped talking.
For nearly six whole seconds.
“It’s beautiful,” whispered Marmaduke.
Barry nodded.
“It is.”
Then…
“Do you think King Tut had to brush his teeth?”
Back outside…
Mrs Brand was now almost jogging.
“Barry!”
“TWELVE!”
“TWENTY-SOMETHING!”
Alfie looked exhausted.
“Mum…”
“What?”
“It’s Twenty-three.”
“I know that.”
“What was Barry?”
“…”
“…”
“…Nine?”
“That’s you.”
“Oh dear.”
The instructor calmly spoke through everyone’s headphones.
“If anyone is separated, simply stay where you are.”
Barry heard this.
“Ooh.”
He ignored it.
Instead he followed another corridor because he thought he’d seen a treasure chest.
It turned out to be a virtual bucket.
Finally…
Alfie spotted two familiar numbers disappearing behind a doorway.
“Twelve!”
Mrs Brand spun around.
“WHERE?”
“There!”
She marched towards them with the determined speed of someone who’d spent ten minutes imagining newspaper headlines.
LOCAL MOTHER LOSES CHILDREN INSIDE COMPUTER.
Barry looked up.
“Oh! Hello!”
Mrs Brand almost hugged him.
Instead she remembered she was wearing a headset and accidentally hugged fresh air.
Her floating virtual hands embraced absolutely nothing.
“I’ve been looking everywhere!”
“We found another room.”
“You wandered off!”
“We followed a lizard.”
Mrs Brand stared.
“…”
“…A lizard.”
“It was very convincing.”
The guide gently gathered everyone together.
“Ready to enter the final chamber?”
Barry raised his hand.
“Can I keep the treasure?”
“No.”
“If I find it first?”
“No.”
“What if nobody else notices?”
“No.”
“What if—”
“No.”
The final chamber was magnificent.
Tutankhamun’s golden coffin rested peacefully beneath soft lighting.
Ancient jewellery glittered.
Chariots.
Furniture.
Statues.
Everything appeared exactly as Howard Carter had first seen it.
Even Barry whispered.
“It feels real.”
“It does,” agreed Mrs Brand.
“This is incredible.”
Alfie slowly turned in a circle.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Even Marmaduke stood quietly.
Which, statistically speaking, was almost supernatural.
Eventually the experience ended.
Darkness.
Then…
The warehouse returned.
Everyone removed their headsets.
Barry blinked.
“I’ve got elbows again!”
Marmaduke inspected his legs.
“They came back!”
Mrs Brand laughed with relief.
“I’m never forgetting numbers again.”
Barry grinned.
“What number was I?”
Mrs Brand opened her mouth.
Paused.
“…”
“…”
“Twelve?”
Barry burst into laughter.
“You guessed!”
“I did not.”
“I absolutely guessed.”
Marjory laughed so hard she nearly dropped her headset.
“You were panicking!”
“I wasn’t panicking.”
“You asked a pensioner if he was Barry.”
“I was… conducting enquiries.”
“You hugged invisible air.”
“I thought it was Barry!”
Barry looked pleased.
“So… I got lost really well.”
“You did,” sighed Mrs Brand.
“I’m actually quite impressed.”
Back home, Mr Brand was exactly where everyone expected him to be.
Laptop open.
Coffee beside him.
Emails answered.
He looked up innocently.
“Lovely nap.”
Mrs Brand folded her arms.
“Really?”
“I dreamed about spreadsheets.”
Barry climbed onto the sofa.
“We found King Tut!”
“Excellent.”
“Mum lost us.”
“I did not!”
“You forgot my number.”
“It was a stressful environment.”
Barry grinned.
“What number was I?”
Mrs Brand hesitated.
Everyone waited.
“…”
“…”
“…Twelve?”
Barry cheered.
“She’s remembered!”
Mrs Brand smiled proudly.
“I’ll never forget it again.”
Barry nodded thoughtfully.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because next week Marjory says we’re trying dinosaurs.”
Mr Brand slowly closed his laptop.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“No?”
“I suddenly remember.”
“What?”
“I’ve got work.”
Mrs Brand smiled sweetly.
“On a Sunday?”
“It’s… very important work.”
Barry tilted his head.
“What kind?”
Mr Brand sighed.
“The sort that definitely doesn’t involve pretending to be a dinosaur while wearing another headset.”
Barry smiled the enormous smile that only four-year-olds and people planning mild chaos can produce.
“We’ll book you in anyway.”
Mr Brand looked at the ceiling.
Somewhere, he was certain, Howard Carter was laughing.
Alfie, Barry and Marmaduke Stories 
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