Portland, Oregon 1981

After several hours of a "fun" spontaneous Saturday trip up to the big city, all part of a grand conspiracy orchestrated on the part of Mother to encourage her to "bond" with what she suspected was an actual former Drill Sergeant of a step-father, Chloe managed to finally find an opportunity to slip away. Taking her chance while she had it, the young punk zigzagged swiftly down side streets and alleys until she found herself in a more suburban part of town.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Chloe slowed to a more lackadaisical amble. She kept her head on a casual swivel as she took in the rows of neat and tidy houses, identical cookie cutter copies of one another. Attracting no small amount of stares thanks to her dyed and spiked bright blue hair, ripped and cut stonewashed jeans tucked into black combat boots, topped by a torn tank covered with an even more ripped and scuffed motorcycle jacket, she scowled at anyone brave enough to meet her eyes.

After a few minutes' worth of walking past unnerved suburban families, a couple of which even crossed the road to avoid her, , Chloe hit the end of the tract-like housing development at a three-way intersection. Across the street was a strip mall, and catching her eye was a large, dark-tinted window of a storefront that displayed only the word "ARCADE" in purple neon light, and a lit "Open" sign.

'Fuck it, why not? ' she thought with a shrug, and jogged across the street. After a near-miss with a car that led to honking horns and flipped birds, she pulled open the door. Inside she heard the 8-bit beeping music of arcade cabinets mixed with the jangling sound of pinball games. Chloe took a minute to blink in adjustment to the dimness of the place, noting the small number of fellow teens manning various games.

Heading toward the less-populous back of the arcade, she passed the standard Namco and Atari cabinets before something in bright white, instead of the usual dark or wood cabinetry, caught her eye. The game itself was unremarkable; a single joystick and button were placed in the center of the console, and the title screen proclaimed "POLYBIUS" in bold letters. 'What are the odds I'd find a game named after a philosopher from Arcadia? Weird.'

Digging about in her pockets before finding a few spare coins, she slipped a quarter into the coin slot and gripped the joystick. Low tones composed the soundtrack of what started off like a standard geometric puzzle shooter. Chloe felt herself relaxing, feeling almost as if the world outside the game was slowly melting away. Her score climbed at a steady rate as minutes passed, the simplicity of the game lending no real challenge to someone who frequently sought out arcades as a place to escape from authority. Her score ticked up, up, until landing on 321153. The moment the final digit changed the screen froze before turning blinding white in a flash, the low tones shifting to a shrill alarm before the whole world went dark.

When she came to, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn't in the arcade anymore. The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't alone, and she was in an unfamiliar living room. "Oh good, you're awake," the other person in the room said. As Chloe finally became fully aware of herself, she jerked herself upright on what was obviously a stranger's couch. She turned to see the source of the voice, a mousey-brown haired girl, about her age, but dressed neatly in pressed jeans and a sweater stood near the couch. Also, she couldn't help but notice she was very cute, with a smattering of freckles across her face, paired with fair skin and big blue eyes. "I was at the arcade down the street with a friend, and I saw you collapse in front of one of the games. Since I live so close by, I had my friend help me carry you here. Sorry, but I took off your jacket. I just thought you'd be more comfortable without it." The girl looked away at the last bit, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's all right! Thanks for the, uh, help. I passed out? Oh, and uh, I'm Chloe," she heard herself stammer out in a rush. 'God. Could I sound like more of a spaz?'

"Max," the girl said, holding out a hand and meeting her eyes with a warm smile.

Chloe couldn't help but grin as she shook the girl's hand. The girl - no, Max - she corrected herself, looked like most of the preps you'd find in suburbia, yet she showed no sign of being bothered by her look. 'Plus,' she thought, 'she's super cute, preppie or not.'

Introductions made and refreshments offered and declined, Chloe was startled by the next words from Max. "You were playing 'Polybius'." It was a statement, not a question, and totally out of tone from the rest of the discussion they'd had.

"Ye-e-e-sss?" She winced at the hesitation in her tone, in the way her voice cracked as her response came out more like a question.

"No one plays it who lives here. They said not to. I did, once, because I was curious. I didn't pass out, not like you did, but I didn't play it as long as you. Only a few seconds, really. I stopped because I saw a face in the screen. Your face." Max's face was expressionless with the exception of her eyes, which held hers. They reminded her of a deer in headlights, wide and anxious.

'Wait, they? They who? And what about my face?' Chloe's thoughts raced but all she could articulate was a "Wuh?"

"That's why I had my friend, uhm, his name is Warren… anyway, that's why I took you here. Because I saw you in a game, and you were playing the same game. I had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you before you passed out. And I'd told Warren you were who I'd seen when I played, so he agreed to help me. I felt like it had to be fate, you know? Plus I was worried about you, if they'd do something." Now Max was the one speaking fast and stumbling over words. "I'm not crazy," she added as a quiet afterthought.

"I don't think you're crazy," Chloe responded, and was surprised to find she really didn't. "Who are they?"

"They… they were wearing suits, I dunno. They said they were with the police, but they didn't look it. But nobody else ever played the game but us, I think." The way Max refused to meet her eyes while she spoke made Chloe think there was a lot that wasn't being said. A glance to the window revealed a darkening sky though, and she realized she had to go now or risk dear old douche calling the cops on her, with Mother's full support.

"Listen, I need to get going. But I agree, there's no chance us meeting was, well, chance. And I feel like… Like I know you. Have known you. Even though we just met. If… if I leave you my number, will you call me?" Again, her response surprised her.

Max nodded, and passed over a small notebook she pulled from a pocket. "Write it in here, I'll call tomorrow. Are you… close by?"

"Couple hours," Chloe said as she scrawled out her name and the number for her house. "Close enough to share an area code, so it's not long distance."

When she passed back the book, she watched Max tear a page out of the back that she then wrote on and handed to Chloe. "My number. I have my own phone line, so, uhm, call whenever."

Chloe nodded and stuffed the number into her pocket. She grabbed her jacket and headed out with a wave, hurrying back toward the city proper to try and catch up with her mom and step-sergeant before they freaked all the way out. Even after she met up with them, enduring lecture after lecture as they made their way home, her thoughts never strayed from the memory of the mousey preppie, her big blue eyes, and the strangeness of the "Polybius" cabinet.