Although he was on the corner of a busy street in Hamilton, most people who walked by were either looking down at glowing screens or in a hurry. Some would turn, have a quick glance, then continue without stopping. He was used to being ignored. After all, he'd been there for years now since he was made redundant; sitting and staring out across the road, observing the changes.

He was ruminating on the business opportunities for the empty car yard on the opposite corner when two youths stopped and peered into his glass-enclosed booth. One was chomping a chicken nugget and other slurped a drink.

With a greasy hand, Nugget gave the glass several forceful taps.

"Hey! Zoltar. Speak," he laughed.

"He's some kind of fortune teller,' said Slurpy. 'S'posed to tell your future."

"I think you've got to put in some money," said Nugget, pointing to the slot on the side.

"My mom says it's a load of rubbish."

Zoltar's head lifted, his bottom lip quivered and the mechanism groaned as parts scraped. The crystal ball glowed bright red. The boys froze. Stepped back. A card dropped into the slot.

"Whoa," said Nugget. "Creepy."

"Go on, read it," said Slurpy.

Nugget reached into the slot with two fingers as if it was electrified then read the card.

I beg to differ, young man. It is certainly not rubbish.

Zoltar was proud of his deep, rich Russian accent cultivated to sound all-knowing, (despite being born in Edgeworth), but his voice surprised even him, as it had been months since he last responded to anyone. Also, he never produced a card without payment, he wasn't himself. Must be the last few weeks of rain. It had worked through a rust patch and worn a hole in the roof. The drip down his back was irritating and a pain in the neck.

"How'd he do that?" said Nugget.

Zoltar groaned again and another card dropped.

I am Zoltar the Magnificent. Crystal gazer, Psychic and Clairvoyant.

Zoltar was puzzled by the need to keep producing cards when he could hear himself articulating every word.

"It's a trick," said Slurpy. 'There's gotta be someone in the back doing all that suff.'

"Yeah, let's go. We'll get Aunty E to ask in the morning."

The following day, Nugget and Slurpy returned, accompanied by a tall, auburn-haired woman with beautiful emerald eyes. The trio entered the hotel through the main door. They came out a few minutes later with the owner, Stick.

A semi-circle of furrowed brows squinted up at Zoltar who hadn't had this much attention since his days at the show in a booth inside the amusement arcade.

"As you can see, the box is inserted into the outside wall," said Stick, rapping on the edges with his walking stick.

"He hasn't worked properly for years. We clean the glass every couple of days and put in a few blank cards but that's about it."

Now that's a load of rubbish, Zoltar chuckled to himself.

"He spoke to us yesterday," said Nugget, "I showed you, Aunty E."

"It was weird," said Slurpy.

"He looks sad," said Emerald Eyes.

Zoltan was smitten with Emerald Eyes. She reminded him ... but his thoughts were fuddled. Lately he felt tired of being Zoltar Speaks. He was certain there was more to him than dishing out cards- if he could just remember. He wanted a change. People were always tapping at him, asking silly questions and his usual response was to return their stares.

"I never take much notice," said Stick.

Zoltar's mouth twitched and he groaned.

A card dropped.

"See?" said Slurpy.

"I knew it," said Nugget.

"Clever Zoltar," said Emerald Eyes.

Stick read the card.

You should take more notice. There is a hole in the roof.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Stick.

Everyone looked up at the roof and Stick noticed a pencil-sized hole and a water line on the tiles that trailed down into Zoltar's box. He wasn't thinking of the cost of repairs but calculating the extra income this new discovery could bring. Zoltar would be a unique added attraction.

Zoltar was unscrewed from his spot, taken to the shed and stripped. His mechanism was oiled and tightened. His moustache and beard were waxed and his faded yellow vest replaced. Even his turban was stitched. The crick in his neck was gone and he felt years younger. His new voice chip didn't have the same sound as the original and it took him some time to get used to the change.

He was given a new polished, glass-fronted box with a shiny coin slot and new cards then positioned inside in the lounge.

The raucous laughter and heated discussions gave him a headache. As did the non-stop chatter of patrons on the poker machine beside him who consistently abandoned their spectacles. The desire to reprimand anyone who spilled their drink over his cabinet added to his discomfort.

He was pondering the possibilities of escape when Emerald Eyes appeared in front of him. His heart skipped.

"Hello Zoltar," she said.

She smiled at him.

He remembered.

A card dropped.

Esmeralda.