THE END.
LEVEL ONE by George Strasburg
“The problem with this game is that nobody gets beyond level one, who wants to pay fifty cents…”
“It’s a dollar.”
“A dollar! To die? Over and over again.” Jimmy smacked the joystick for good measure, and then politely padded each button on the arcade machine. “You want a dollar, you at least need a vibrating motorcycle.” Jimmy disappeared into the symphony of chaos. Announcers introduced champions, engines revved, guitars blazed and over in the corner that soft rolling sound of skeet ball. But it meant nothing to Ross.
His mom had dropped him off at the arcade to go try on bras and the only thing he wanted to do was use his time wisely; this time.
This time he would advance past level one in the hardest game the world had ever known: TIME BANISHER: ECHO PHOENIX.
Ross rolled the dollar’s worth of gold tokens in his hands as if waiting for his number to be called. The blue backlit screen flashed red and yellow high scores. He saw his own still resided safely in tenth place. Some one’s made it to level two, he thought, looking at a new high score replacing one of the fake computer scores. Ross could always spot the fake one the game makers put up just so that you’d keep trying to beat it. But this score didn’t end in six zeroes, it was a real score, some one’s sweat and tears and their dollars’ worth of tokens, or perhaps their whole allowance’s worth.
Ross memorized the initials, ‘JAM’. It wasn’t hard, he thought of strawberries and didn’t know the difference between preservatives.
Like it was a call to action he unloaded his tokens. The music roared into a different octave and the screen flashed until it asked for other players to join. As the screen alternated between menu options he began to arm his character, this time, he was going to play as the woman, since maybe the game makers tried to be P.C. and let her have special abilities to make her better than a man. Between the menu options the screen went black for a split second. But in that second Ross saw his reflection. Thought it was gone from the arcade machine’s glass, it stayed burned into his retina, or deeper within his mind.
It was a reflection that he knew, but had never seen.
It was the reflection no mirror had ever shown him.
The game called to him, and he was in level one.
The female character leaped and flipped, kicking her way at the various ammunition and health bonuses. He’d made it this far every time. And then the enemies showed up. They flung hammers and pizzas that he dodged successfully for the umpteenth time. He double-tapped and his character slid beneath the barrage of attacks, then he slammed his fingers hard to make her jump just out of reach of a geyser of molten lava.
Then he was dead.
A pizza had bounced back off a tree and hit him. It was enough to knock him back down on top of an unrelenting geyser of molten lava.
The screen mocked him. Begged him for more coins.
But Ross was all out. He saw Jimmy riding a motorcycle, doing his best to try and snap it off its base. There was nothing for Ross to do but stare and watch the high scores again.
JAM
“Screw you JAM.”
Ross left the arcade and found a seat next to all the motorized carts for fat people. He ran through his mistakes again. He kept thinking until his mom returned and scolded him for not staying in the arcade, then she got Jimmy and they went home.
Ross had pleaded for time on the Internet. Otherwise he’d be stuck watching boring anime with Jimmy. He’d talked enough about the game that his mother agreed to let him online just so that he’d shut up.
“Don’t go anywhere you’re not supposed to go,” his mother reminded him.
He wasn’t planning on it.
He had two goals, find out if anyone knew how to beat level one, and or figure out how JAM got the highest non-computer score.
After wasting ten minutes reading message boards about people who hated the game, Ross found an early press release for the game that showcased screenshots of what had to be the next levels. It only made him want to beat the game more.
But that was it for screenshots other than the promotional art that looked like it was hand drawn by a computer. It had been three years and no one had posted anything more about the game than that they hated it. Still there it sat in the mall’s very own arcade taking Ross’ hard earned allowance.
Then he found it.
He found JAM.
Bragging about his high score in message boards. Claiming no one could ever beat his score.
It took Ross a few minutes and a confirmation email before her could be allowed to post on the message board, but he did and then he stared at the screen waiting for JAM who went by the username of JACK’S ANGRY MANNEQUIN.
But his time allowed on the Internet ended with him pleading to his mother for just a few more minutes.
He was forced to go sulk in his room. Jimmy laughed at him the whole time. It was two days before he was allowed on again. And thankfully JAM had responded.
He wrote:
You can’t beat level one. That’s the game; everyone dies in level one, idiot. You just have to hang around and try and score a lot of points. That’s all you can do.
Ross wrote back that there had to be more levels and he showed him the pictures he had found on the early press release. And then he waited again until his mother forced him from the computer once again.
The next day JAM had not responded, but Ross noticed he had a personal message. It was not from JAM, but some one under the username of LevelUpShroom.
Ross read:
There is a level two, this Jack’s Angry Mannequin doesn’t even know. If you want I can show it to you.
Ross was suddenly creeped out. His parents had warned him. But it wasn’t like this guy could just grab him. It wasn’t like their conversation wasn’t about TIME BANNISHER: ECHO PHOENIX. He responded: “pleeeeeeassssseeee!”
Ross almost got up from the computer rather than lose time waiting for a response. But LevelUpShroom responded immediately.
“There’s a reason why arcades still carry ECHO PHOENIX, even though no one plays it cause its so hard. And that’s because they know what the game really is. It’s a door. Level two is somewhere you have to go.”
“How do I get there?” typed Ross.
“In the first level there are three enemies you have to hit. You can’t get hit or hit any other enemies, but those three enemies will open up the next level.”
“Which ones.”
LevelUpShroom told him.
Ross asked more questions. But there were no more responses as he waited and asked more, and begged for more answers. Then his time was up.
“Mom, don’t you need to go shopping?”
“No.” She said as she boiled noodles for dinner.
“You don’t want to look pretty?”
“What has gotten into you?”
“I want to go to the arcade I figured out how to beat TIME BANNISHER.”
“As if!” Jimmy shouted from the other room.
“I’m not taking you to the arcade just to waste money.”
“It costs a dollar to play!” Jimmy yelled.
Ross begged and begged but was told to go to his room until dinner.
He dreamed in his mind the three enemies he needed to defeat. Imagined dodging the others, worked all the movements with his hands as if he were sitting at the machine itself.
A week later Ross’ mom took him and Jimmy to the arcade and did some shopping. It was the last time anyone saw Ross.
Twelve years later.
Jimmy went by James as it made him sound sturdy and less playful. He was a professional now and he dealt in antiques. He would buy and sell whatever he could find from state auctions. He rarely kept anything for himself. He was too professional for that.
But at this particular estate sale something caught his eyes.
It was an old arcade machine, it had already begun to fade on its sides and ther
e was no guarantee that it worked and furthermore it brought back feelings of pain. Feelings Jimmy wanted again as he pushed the arcade machine up against the wall in his condo and plugged in for the first time.
It did work.
TIME BANNISHER: ECHO PHOENIX announced its rebirth. He had never noticed how loud the machines were in the arcade, they had to be, they were trying to be heard over all the others. In his condo it was like a big symphony orchestra.
He couldn’t hear his own sobs.
James never figured out what had happened to his brother.
His parents believed Ross had met someone on the internet who had known Ross would be at the arcade and then took him while James was off playing a different game and their mother was shopping.
James knew he didn’t deserve blame, but he wanted it, he wanted to feel like he could’ve done something. He didn’t want to believe he was helpless, that he couldn’t have saved his brother.
Only TIME BANNISHER: ECHO PHOENIX illuminated his dark apartment. Flashing blue, yellow and red across the walls, across his hands, which James stared at.
Ross had been obsessed with beating level one.
Now that obsession belonged to James.
The internet had advanced in the twelve years, there was an overabundance of information and plenty on the once unbeatable TIME BANNISHER: ECHO PHOENIX, which eventually had a port to a major console that purists claim was stripped of any challenge that had kept the children of the late nineties pumping quarters.
James even stumbled upon Ross’ conversation with Jack’s Angry Mannequin. Twelve years later the internet still had remnants of his brother.
He had remembered how his brother just knew how to beat level one that day. There were three enemies.
James played the game and saw the three enemies Ross had obsessed over. But he was not able to defeat just them, and he didn’t even live long enough to beat the third.
It took practice.
A lot of it.
So much that James did not return to work.
He did not return phone calls.
He was gone before anyone worried.
He had mastered his attack plan and defeated the three enemies and no one else.
James stood in his apartment and started at the screen. His reflection faded even though it shouldn’t have. He hadn’t moved, the lighting hadn’t changed. He just started a black screen assuming he had broken the machine.
He tried to kick the machine to see if that could get it to power back up. But his foot never touched it. He wasn’t able to touch anything. He looked around his condo. There was nothing outside his windows. Only blackness. His lights wouldn’t turn on. The television didn’t work. His mirrors showed him nothing. Just a black void.
“Where am I?” James asked his empty condo.
“Level two.” A boy’s voice replied.
He turned and saw Ross.
His first thought was that he had gone mad, that it was all a dream.
“Where am I?” he asked again.
Ross smiled.
“Life is level one. We pay so much just to die.” Ross said. “We’re convinced we can’t get to level two. But there has always been a level two, some call it heaven. It’s all the same you were right, we pay to die.”
THE END.
CLUCK CLUCK by Shane Porteous
The moon was missing from the heavens though the night sky swelled with stars; they looked like termites upon scorched wood. It was as if they had come out in force to find the moon. Vulshin Vy had no problem with this, as long as the stars kept their search within the vault of heaven. She was easily enough spotted, even within the darkness, even without someone trying to find her. That was because she was the only human she had ever known that possessed a pair of wings. Feathered and formidable, her wings were awash in green, blue and black. The three colours were so intimate with each other, it was hard to tell where one began or ended, making her wings carry characteristics of all three colours. Feathers formed over other parts of her frame, her arms, stomach, neck and legs were mostly bare, save for her wrists and ankles, where the feathers formed what looked like bracelets and anklets. There were sporadic spots on her body where the three colours formed without feathers, making it look like sapphires had somehow sunk into her coconut coloured skin. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long flowing locks, caramel in colour, they fell like feathers from her scalp and past her shoulders. Her eyes were emerald in colour yet they did not shine, as if a poison had eroded the preciousness they once possessed.
They may not have shone but they saw sharply, even without the glow of the moon she could see the fortress clearly. She sat perched like a bird upon the mountain ridge, the only thing taller than the fortress walls for many miles. She could see the guards and the weapons they wielded, moving back and forth routinely, as if they had been rehearsing a dance routine to the point that it had grown dull. Vulshin Vy hoped as much, she didn’t want their senses to be sharp tonight. She had been watching the fortress from the ridge for a little over two weeks, she was safe from sight there, simply because no one would bother watching the ridge. It was incapable of being climbed, only something able to fly would be able to find the ridge and again she was the only human she knew of that possessed wings.
There were many mercenaries within the fortress, as well paid as they were armed. She didn’t want to be forced to face them all, she was a tremendous killer, but that didn’t mean she wanted a massacre on her hands, her mind was already marauded by one and she didn’t need to be mauled by another. If she had it her way, at most, only one person would die to tonight.
She watched and waited for the closest guard to move on, even without moonlight, his golden armor and spear shone within the black as the sound of his marching boots reminded her of ringing bells. When she could no longer hear such a sound she made her move. She didn’t fly so much as glide from the ridge, staying as silent as she could before landing over the wall and onto the walkway. She landed with bent knees and a fast beating heart. Her wings folding upon her back as easily as swords entering sheaves. She had to remain both calm and calculated if she didn’t want to be spotted. She waited for several moments, listening for any words spoken or any weapons drawn. When she heard neither she moved, keeping crouched as she crawled along the walkway, stopping sporadically as her memory reminded her of the guards’ movements. So far so good, but it wouldn’t be long before her memory could no longer aid her. The position of the ridgeline had allowed her to observe the guards on the walls and highest walkways, but she was blind to what was below them. Thus she focused on finding a certain corner of the fortress, one where even during daylight the sun didn’t shine. It was there, within the darkest blackness she would descend.
When she reached it, she had to stop, both body and mind demanding that she stayed still for several moments. She didn’t want to be found, she didn’t want to be forced to kill, panic made blood move through her body like it was being chased by something carnivorous. The darkness of the corner kept her completely swallowed and yet her heart pounded in her chest as she observed a green-bearded giant, a spear sized sword slung over his shoulder, move in front of her. She wasn’t surprised, just scared and not just because he would’ve been strong enough to slice her in half. She had been safe on the ridge, but she was no longer, all it would take for him to see her would be for him to turn around and stare long enough into the black. But he didn’t turn; he stopped only momentarily, the exact same way he had done so every single night she had watched the fortress. She closed her eyes reminding herself of just how concealing pitch black could be.
When she opened them again the swordsman was no longer in sight, it would be minutes before he returned and she only needed a couple of seconds. In that moment she moved forward, ascending from a crouch to standing while her wings spread. She didn’t hesitate as she dropped off the walkway and descended deeper into the darkness. Her wings performing like a parachute, slowing her descent enough that sh
e didn’t need to worry about being wounded by the plunge. She landed, still within the darkness of that corner, her wings folding onto her back once more as she stayed crouched.
The fortress was a much different place down below, most notably it was much noisier. Looking up she began to feel like she was at the bottom of a well for she could see every stone and piece of steel that made the structure strong. The ground below her had been paved over with stone as if to stop subterranean invaders. Even the barracks were built like barricades, forming a square of shields around the smaller and more vulnerable structures within the fortress. An entire army would struggle to claim this place from its protectors. Vulshin Vy had no desire to claim this place for her own, all she wanted was to find a certain someone and then leave before anyone else knew she was there.
The noises that gnawed at the night were mostly the sounds of men and women drinking, off duty guards getting drunk and devouring whatever food they could find. Drunks were easily distracted and that was a good thing, as long as she stayed low to the ground, chances were she would remain undetected. Thus she stayed crouched, moving on her hands and feet, passing under the firelight through the windows. Before long she found a break within the barracks, just large enough for her to crawl through.
Sticking to the shadows as well as she could a strong scent stung her nostrils, the smell of a barnyard, the smell of beasts. She could see cages upon cages filled with creatures, the kind that men from many different cultures ate. They were a noisy bunch of animals and she was grateful to them, the more sounds they made the less her own movements were heard.
She moved on, noticing that the smaller structures actually possessed larger windows. Something about that unnerved her to the point that she actually stopped moving and pondered as to why this was so. It was not long after she had paused that she realized something was staring at her. She turned her head slightly so she could look into its eyes, moon-like and mesmerized. It was a small creature, one that had probably escaped from the cages. Four legged and fury, its triangular ears stood so straight on the sides of its head, it was as if the ears were trying to escape its skull. Its fur-covered face carried an expression that looked like the face of a man staring at a meal that was capable of eating him. The creature back peddled as Vulshin Vy stayed still and then it meowed before sprinting away as if fearing she was going to catch and kill it. She cursed herself for not doing so, not because she wanted the creature dead, but because it was making an awful lot of noise as it bumped and crashed into walls, causing pots and small statues to fall over. The breaths she then took were like someone starving slurping up soup. These sounds stuck out from the burping and bellowing that filled the barracks. Paralyzed by panic it was a number of moments before she could move again.
9 Tales From Elsewhere 7 Page 4
