The Trigger Mechanism

by Scott McEwen

  “Okay,” Jalen said, closing his eyes. Hi Kyto is playing on the left, so she’ll pick first. She’s comfortable with Guile, but at public events, she usually reps female, so maybe she’ll go with Rose …

  Just then, the announcers began to fire up the lights and music. Jalen looked up at the screen where Hi Kyto was choosing her player. Scrolling, scrolling.

  “Ahh, Akuma!” one of the announcers said as Hi Kyto stopped on the huge, devil-looking dude with purple pants and red hair that looked like a lion’s mane. “Somewhat unexpected for Hi Kyto, but she likes to keep us on our toes,” he said with the enthusiasm of a football announcer. “Get ready to see some demon flips!”

  All around, the fans went wild, but Jalen kept his eyes on his own screen, moving the joystick until he settled on the one he wanted.

  “Cammy!” the other announcer bellowed into his microphone. “CV_kyd also making a surprising choice.”

  Jalen glanced at Wyatt as his chosen character filled the screen—long braids, a leotard, muscle-y bare limbs. “Okay, dude,” Wyatt said into Jalen’s earpiece. “I’m all for girl power, but this match is shaping up to look like beauty versus the beast.”

  “What I like about Cammy—” the announcer said to the roaring crowd.

  “Aside from the fact that she gets buffer every season?” the other announcer interrupted with a chuckle.

  “Exactly, but aside from great movement speed, she’s got good pressure with throws…”

  “Just trust me,” Jalen muttered to Wyatt, pushing past the chatter around him.

  “I do, buddy,” Wyatt said. “Good luck.”

  * * *

  In the distinguished history of the EVO championship, few head-to-heads had been over so quickly. Jalen did his part, wielding Cammy with a flurry of scissor kicks and lightning bolts as Hi Kyto’s lion-demon man throttled CV_kyd in front of the bloodthirsty audience. In the corner of his eye, Jalen could see Hi Kyto, one hand toggling the joystick and the other hovering, working the half dozen buttons with more precision than a concert pianist.

  The first round was over in a matter of seconds, the screen flashing the letters K.O. as his character lay dead. For the second round, there was little improvement. Jalen got a couple of good hits in, but the truth of the matter was Hi Kyto was playing much better than she did in the YouTube videos Darsie had shown him on the train. It didn’t matter what character Jalen chose, his fighting avatar, Cammy, was a sitting duck.

  “Oh my god! Full-meter burn!” The first announcer laughed. “Hi Kyto is brutal!”

  “I know, I know,” the second announcer chimed in. “My goodness. How many times can one man’s heart break?”

  After the game, Hi Kyto stepped up on stage for the medal ceremony. She received the clear glass championship trophy and promptly hugged it to her chest.

  “Hi Kyto, congrats on another successful tournament,” a moderator said. “Anything you’d like to say?”

  “Well, there were some good rounds.” Hi Kyto raised up on her tiptoes to speak into the microphone. “Aside from CV_kyd, which was a total waste of time.”

  Ohhhhh, the crowd said in unison, swamping Jalen with a tidal wave of boos. From the side of the stage, he felt his face burning with their stares.

  “All right, everyone,” the announcer said as the music began blaring and the heavy TV cameras panned the stage. “Why don’t we give Capcom a hand and our competitors a hand. Thank you all for a wonderful event, and we look forward to seeing you next year!” he said as the fireworks rocketed on stage and the heavy metal band took their place again.

  Jalen, still reeling from his public burn, forgot for an instant his one objective and caught the girl’s arm as she stepped off stage.

  “What was that for?” he blurted. “You know what, you’re full of it. Maybe you’re a queen in this weird little world, but I know a place where girls half your size would eat you alive in real life, not on this silly virtual one.” He motioned to the screen that took up the wall behind them, where Hi Kyto’s face loomed.

  She stared a moment, stunned behind her glasses. “If it’s so silly,” she said slowly, “then why are you here?”

  “Because I thought it was fun, until I had the misfortune of playing with you.” Jalen turned and stormed toward the exit, furious at the girl, at the game, at Wyatt for getting him into this mess.

  “Woah, dude,” Wyatt’s voice popped in Jalen’s headset. “Not cool. Can you slow down?”

  Jalen turned around and saw Wyatt bumping through the crowd behind him, his red service cap askew, but Jalen kept walking toward the exit. “I tried. It didn’t work. I need a minute.”

  “Jalen—” Wyatt said, but Jalen pulled the hidden earpiece from his ear and did not look back. He found the baggage check and threw the ticket at the man. “I’m sorry,” he said, quickly realizing what he had done. He paid for his backpack and gave the guy an extra five bucks.

  “It’s okay,” the guy said. “It’s hard to lose.”

  “Yeah. No kidding.”

  Unsure what to do, Jalen charged out of the casino and into the bright sunshine. He tilted his face, already feeling free of the cavernous space, the pulse of the casino. He walked off the Strip, looking to get away from the action—thinking, fuming, until he found a rare park in Vegas. There was an abandoned basketball by a picnic table, and he went over and picked it up and began dribbling around the court. Beyond the tables and the hoop, he noticed a painted brick building. The brick wall was actually a colorful mural, a love offering from a couple of artistic EVO superfans. It was several minutes of free throws before Jalen realized that the backdrop of his shooting—the mural—contained the faces of several professional gamers, and there, right in the middle of them—the thick glasses, intelligent eyes looking out through the lens—was Hi Kyto herself.

  He began throwing up the ball with more fervor than before. Over and over, he fired—the more he shot, the slower his breathing became; his frustration started to subside and an almost meditative calm dropped over him.

  It was nearly dusk when he heard a girl’s voice behind him. “Can I try?”

  Startled, he dropped the ball and it bounced, then rolled to the grass at the side of the court.

  He turned, surprised to find Hi Kyto herself, standing shyly in the shadow of her own giant image. Everything about her—even her voice—had softened. “I guess.” Jalen shrugged.

  She picked up the ball that had stopped at her feet.

  Jalen watched as she walked to the white line, her eyes squinting first at the ball, then back at Jalen, then at the net. Her determined tongue resting in the corner of her mouth as she aimed and heaved the ball from her shoulders, and the ball went sailing into the chain-link fence.

  It was all Jalen could do not to laugh. It was truly the worst shot he had ever seen. With the greatest amount of effort.

  “Gotta try that again.” She awkwardly scooped up the ball and again shot with so much force that she knocked her glasses off her face. The next time, instead of shooting from her shoulders, she shot from her chest. The ball went slightly higher, but bricked off the backboard and nearly hit her in the nose.

  She picked up her glasses and turned to Jalen. “Well, how the heck do you do this?”

  Jalen laughed. “Lemme show you.” He picked up the ball and dribbled around her. “Okay, first thing you need is a shooting position.”

  Her right eyebrow arched and her nose crinkled. “Like this?” She shifted. Her feet side by side, shoulders slumped.

  “Never mind, let’s start with the basics. How ’bout this … Stand like you’re going to throw a baseball.”

  She shot another incredulous look.

  “Never played baseball, either?”

  Hi Kyto shook her head. “One time I was asked to throw a pitch at a Giants game,” she offered.

  “How’d it go?”

  “I declined.”

  “So you’re not a sports person.”

  “Not the ones
in the real world,” she said in a mocking tone.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I was a little harsh.”

  “I asked for it.” She looked up at the mural. The sunlight was almost completely gone behind the wall. “Gaming is a very male-dominated world, you know.”

  “I saw some girls today.”

  “Sure, but all of us have had to fight hard for it. Those dorks you see, they’re more macho than most frat boys. If you don’t have an attitude, they’ll run you right over.”

  “What about the guys who just wanna be nice to you?”

  Again Hi Kyto crinkled her nose incredulously.

  “You know,” Jalen said. “Someone just trying to make conversation.”

  “You mean flirting with me?”

  Jalen could feel himself blushing. “Whatever. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “Now, stance. Here we go. Bend your knees slightly, put your right foot forward and your left foot back.” Jalen stepped toward her. “Are you right-handed?”

  “Ambidextrous when I play video games and when I write—” she said.

  “Okay.” Jalen tucked the ball under his arm and stepped away from the goal. “Come over here. First I want to show you how to make contact with the ball.”

  Hi Kyto stood in front of the wall and Jalen stood behind her. “When you shoot, your right hand is going to do the work and your left hand is going to guide. You see, you were shooting from your core, but you want to have some give in your legs…” Jalen said, bending his knees like he was on a springboard.

  “Are you, like, a sports star or something?”

  “No.” Jalen laughed. “But both of my parents were…” Jalen thought about how much he wanted to reveal. He and Wyatt had worked on a backstory for this cover that was close to his real life but without details that would reveal who he was … “Pretty athletic.”

  “Like college level?”

  “Yeah. For a bit. They always wanted to make it to the pros. Still do.”

  “What sports?”

  “Football and tennis.”

  “And you didn’t play either of them?”

  “Nah.” Jalen passed the ball from hand to hand. “But I always liked basketball. Never told my dad, though. If he knew I had any interest, he’d have me in camps night and day. He’d hire a private coach and be stressing about my play all the time.”

  “I get it. I mean, the Chens, we are more mental athletes…”

  Jalen raised his eyebrows.

  “I just mean,” she stammered, “both of my parents are genius professors … It’s part of why I started playing games. To escape their expectations … the pressure … Okay, so show me.”

  Jalen smiled. She was nervous, suddenly vulnerable. “So put your right foot slightly forward.” He stopped her. “Don’t look at your hand. Look where you’re going. Right at the net.”

  “Okay,” Hi Kyto said, and again the concentration dropped over her face and she stuck her tongue in the corner of her mouth. She shot, and the ball arched perfectly through the net.

  “Yes! Oh my gosh,” Hi Kyto beamed. “I’ve never done that before. You just made me an athlete.”

  “You know.” Jalen grinned. “You’re kinda strange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you just won a hundred thousand dollars in the EVO championship and didn’t seem half as excited as you did for one little shot.”

  “A hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” she corrected. “Want me to buy you dinner?”

  CHAPTER 38

  Monty’s Diner was a classic greasy spoon. The bluish wraparound lunch counter, a long, narrow railroad-car layout, the kind that used to be found in towns across America, but now the sort of place that’s frequented by locals with sky-high cholesterol and Instagrammers who want cool pictures but are frustrated they can’t order avocado toast.

  “How’d you find this place?” Jalen asked as he followed Hi Kyto through the front door into the diner, where a puffy Ukrainian short-order cook manned a flat-top griddle. “Doesn’t feel like we’re in Vegas anymore.” The Ukrainian watched them, slinging hash like a samurai with his long metal spatula.

  “I like to operate off-grid,” Hi Kyto said, sliding into the red pleather booth.

  Jalen took the seat across from her, shoving his bag into the seat beside him. She huddled in her hoodie and tucked her legs up to her chest.

  “So you come to Vegas much?” Jalen asked.

  “Once a year at least,” she said. “And my dad likes this place.”

  “Ready?” The Ukrainian’s wife wiped the table and tucked the rag into her apron.

  “Uh.” Jalen scanned the menu. “I’ll try the Reuben.”

  “Monty Burger—rare,” Hi Kyto said.

  “Fries?” the Ukrainian asked.

  “Absolutely,” said Hi Kyto.

  “Me too,” Jalen said.

  The waitress gave a nod and a couple of grunts and left the kids alone.

  “So,” Hi Kyto said. “I don’t even know your name, CV_kyd?” She smiled.

  “Right.” Jalen said. “Call me Jay.”

  “And now that I know your name, where are you headed?” She nodded at Jalen’s dingy camp pack. “I’ve known people with bags like that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jalen stealthily reached down into the side pocket and felt for the earpiece. He turned it on, hoping Wyatt could hear the conversation.

  “Yeah. And they live out of their car.”

  “Well, I prefer to travel by rail.” He sipped his tea. “California.”

  “Where in California?”

  “San Francisco.”

  Her almond eyes narrowed.

  “My plan was to follow the gaming circuit. The next event is in San Fran.”

  “Call it the Bay Area,” she said. “Not San Fran. But the tournament is not for two weeks. Why aren’t you going home first?”

  “No one’s really home right now,” said Jalen. “And my half brother is in California. I’ll be staying with him.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Training. Hoping to get a shot.” Jalen looked out into the darkened street beside the diner trying to recall his made-up backstory. His parents were supposedly trying to make it in their respective sports but in the European leagues. “My story isn’t that interesting.” He found himself not wanting to lie to her. Not that he was sure of her innocence, but it just felt … bad. “My parents are training in Europe. I was in boarding school. Got kicked out and sent home.”

  “For?”

  “Bad grades. I’m just not that smart.”

  “Not sure I believe that.”

  Jalen shrugged as he looked longingly at the grill, the short-order cook seemingly taking her sweet time with his sandwich. “I couldn’t spend the summer sitting around the house with my aunt in her bathrobe,” he said, conjuring up the image of Wyatt’s aunt Narcy with a wince. “So I decided to do this.”

  “Follow the professional video game circuit?” Hi Kyto teased. “You just picked it up? Most of us have been playing since before we could read.”

  “It’s not rocket science.” Jalen smiled. “And I guess you could say I’ve always had good reflexes, always known how to react in a simulated environment.”

  She squinted again. “That sounds like a line.”

  “Well, also, I suck. Sorta. I mean, you saw me.”

  “Order up.” The Ukrainian woman slid Jalen’s plate across the table—variations of hot beef piled on bread with crisp fries.

  “Thank you.” Jalen nodded at the woman. “Of course I want to win,” he said to Hi Kyto, “but I actually don’t like video games like I used to.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I mean, like you, I started playing to escape. I couldn’t change my reality, but I could in the digital world. In the games, I had power, I had friends. But lately I’ve been trying other pursuits, you know, with real people—” Jalen stopped himself, realizing he was saying too much. “I just mean the thing
that makes me different from other players is that this isn’t my dream. I’m doing it for the adventure, for a chance to see an entirely new world … meet people like you.”

  Hi Kyto smiled but then covered it up.

  “What?”

  “I just think it’s kinda cute. That you wanna win.”

  Jalen shrugged. “Sure, I have a ways to go.”

  “A ways to go?” Hi Kyto teased. “Haven’t seen poor Cammy that beat up since Street Fighter Turbo.”

  “Yeah.” Jalen laughed, for the first time making fun of himself. “She took it pretty hard today.”

  “So what are you going to do between now and then?”

  “Well, I gotta get to California first. Then I don’t know. Maybe get a job, try to earn a little money before the next one…”

  Hi Kyto didn’t say anything but stared at Jalen for a long pause, as if contemplating putting another card on the table. And then she did. “I live near San Francisco,” she said.

  “Cool.”

  “Something tells me you already knew that.”

  “I’ve seen your Wikipedia page.” Jalen wiped his mouth. “If that’s what you mean. But I didn’t really think anything of it.”

  Jalen suddenly felt a rush of heat. The uncomfortable disparity of being a mere mortal around a modern celebrity, and a beautiful one at that.

  “Tell you what,” Hi Kyto said, cutting a corner of her burger and dipping it in ketchup. “Why don’t you call me when you get there? Palo Alto, where I live, is not that far out.”

  “What are you doing this summer?”

  “Interning at a lab on campus. Maybe we can hang out … and practice or something. I might even be able to help you find a job.”

  “Deal.”

  After the diner, Jalen walked Hi Kyto back to the casino, where the Chens were waiting for their daughter by their rental car in front of the hotel.

  “So your parents just let you go anywhere?”

  Hi Kyto held up her phone. “They have a tracking app … on my cell.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well, I gotta run,” she said, acting suddenly awkward as they approached. “Give me a call when you get to San Francisco.” She slipped a piece of paper in his hand. “Safe travels.”