Back and Forth
The end of the known world did not –as Calhoun would have imagined—come with a flock of fluorescent biologically mutated bugs that swept over everything, destroying all in their wake. It did come with alien bugs, though.
The games in the Litwark Arcade realized it soon, sooner than most humans did, though of course they could not guess the vast entirety of the matter, much less warn the dwindling free humans outside. It was not difficult to see it, reflecting sometimes among the flashing lights of their opening titles—a flicker of silver in eyes that were a bit too curious and, sometimes, too disgusted at the simplest things.
In the course of a few weeks, Hero's Duty lost all of its gamers, as did Street Fighter and even Pacman. It was a while before they realized what had caused those games to lose their popularity. From then on, the fear of unplugging was so present for all of them, that not only did the residents of the most violent games camp out at Central Station almost constantly; almost without realizing it, the other games changed. Not a fight broke out in Tappers', no one ran their fellow racers off course in Sugar Rush, and the Nicelanders didn't throw Ralph over the building anymore.
When the owner opened one day, going through the same motions as every other morning, and looked around with his silvery eyes, they honestly thought it was over for all of them. But the expression of the stranger behind the familiar face softened; and life went on. Oh, plenty of strange things happened; the few (people?)who came inside never used money anymore; the host in Litwark's body had the coins in a basket, and everyone was free to use them whenever they wanted. No one stole, and never did fights break out. If two of them wanted to try the same game, it was resolved amongst a shower of 'please' and 'thank you' and 'after you'.
Hero's Duty continued plugged in, but never used. The other games observed, fearing the moment the dreaded notice would be hung, but it never came. At the very least, the stranger in Mr. Litwark's body –Bowser bowed that he had heard someone call him Roots by the Green River, and Sonic swore that he claimed to be a 'Flower', whatever that meant—treated them just like their old owner had. He, as strange as it sounded, loved them.
After eighteen months went by, Litwark's body gave out after a long life; a couple of days later a new face came in. He looked young, almost too young with his sandy hair and silvery-blue eyes; but the newcomer –Monochrome Logic, who was, apparently, a 'Spider'– who originally only seemed interested in their inner circuits, and never played himself, restored them with such talent that there was no doubt in anyone's minds that he had to be an extraterrestrial, since no one on Earth could have repaired the effects of the march of time so efficiently.
And so life went on. It seemed like that would be all their existence would amount to; crippled, subdued, all remembering that there was something missing. Barely anyone laughed unrestrainedly outside and not even the children acted like children. Years passed, and turned into decades, and Fix It Felix Jr. reached its 50th anniversary with a somber celebration in which no one seemed to find a good reason to cheer.
But there had been a change in the outside world. So slow, so well-hidden and wide-spread that the games had not felt it until it was strong and unstoppable. For the games at Litwark's, the change came with a bang, announced by a couple that came in, making the bells by the door jingle after them. He seemed to be in his forties, with black hair that was just beginning to show white strands, strong hands and vivid blue eyes. She was a petite thing, almost like Princess Peach with her wavy blonde hair and angelic presence. Her eyes glowed familiarly.
His did not.
Others followed then, awed, and bemused, and a bit wary, but most of them were clearly humans, complete humans, and the people inside the games lifted their heads in unison, not daring to hope. They felt the change in the air almost immediately, remembering the eagerness to please and the pleasure of a job well-done. Was it okay now, to do their jobs like before?
The man's eyes lit up then, and practically dragged his companion across the room, standing in front of a machine that had not been started in years, that should not function by any rights, but for the care of two strange aliens and their outer space technology.
"Wanda, Wanda!" He sounded like the children that were just daring to come inside, looking at the machines with wonder. "Look, I loved this game when it first came out! I can't believe it still functions… Kyle! Kyle, come here!"
A similar man with a crooked nose came. When he saw the label, his eyes lit up, just like his brother's had. "Ready to get beaten, Ian?"
"Ha! I so won last time!" The credits rolled up slowly, and for a moment, it seemed like the cast had not made it in time to the screen, after being inactive for so long. Then Calhoun was there, a bit unsure as if she had forgotten what was written in the depths of her core.
Then the brothers saluted her. "Ready to serve, Sergeant Calhoun."
"You ready rookie? Let's fight now."