2. Rhythm and Lights
Thirty years next week and he'd be having a party. Lots of fun with cake and balloons and making the same moves on the strobing penthouse dancefloor.
Not that he'd mind terribly about going to the party – kinda hard to skip anyhow – since he liked cake and balloons and fireworks.
Oh yes he liked those fireworks.
They were a difficult piece of programming only undertaken on a special occasion, given the brutal necessity of corrupting the illumination circuits in just the right way and for the strictest length of time. Don't want the whole town to be plunged into scaly blackness forever after all!
Mayor Gene would gather everyone together in the conference room (lights appropriately dimmed and windows respectfully shuttered) to explain why and how their game's circuits would be tampered with. But not permanently of course! And certainly not forever! Good gracious no, he'd never risk that; would never risk distorting the game forever for that would be unthinkable and what was he, nothing more than a brainless Wreck-It after all?
They'd laugh nervously and wring their hands and continue the act of appearing to be in a dilemma about interfering with the root of their existence, all the while trying not to look at him or the clock or the snacks on the table behind them.
Gene would stand a bit straighter and with a brave smile declare that, fear not Nicelanders, we can celebrate our anniversary/one thousandth game/miraculous survival of the Arcade getting shut down for three days in a row because we have Felix! Yes, Felix can fix it!
They'd cheer politely and pretend to look relieved, as he would mock salute and hold his hammer out high and joke that perhaps it wouldn't work this time and they'd better not refuse him cream on his pie if that happened!
Some of them would laugh for real at that, and he'd grin for real at that.
The first time he'd heard this speech it had sent a ripple up his spine and down his arms and, in between wondering how he'd gotten so lucky to have such advanced code, he'd feel a surge of pride and protection towards everyone and everything.
He'd heard it again last night, and when the time had come to lift his hammer up he'd taken his time. He'd taken his time to rub a gloved thumb over its head and look at it as if deciding what it was really made of.
He'd delivered the line about his hammer not being able to fix the mutilated circuits in a monotone with a solemn face, and had felt a different kind of ripple through his muscles when not one of them failed to chuckle politely and clap their hands and turn their attention to the post-meeting delicacies.
The illumination circuits were hidden behind a fake safe behind a fake painting in the apartment block's basement. With great ceremony Gene would expose them and mutter what seemed like an apology and prayer and self-righteous justification into the harshly lit space around them as the others, eyes jaded and restless or bright and eager, watched him twist and contort them to demand they spew out pixelated images into the sky at a precise time and in a precise order.
They'd watch him a bit more keenly as he's jump back quicker than he would have liked as the abused wires hissed and spat at him; sparks of light scratching whatever they could as a slow heat and low thrumming began to seep out of the hole in the wall.
Then they would turn their eyes and heads towards him; they'd turn out of habit and out of impatience, as if mildly rebuking him for having not already fixed it and ended this trip down into the cellar's bowels.
They'd always had this demeanour but he hadn't always acted so reluctantly; he would have sprung to attention immediately, carefully approaching the metal breach clad in protective goggles and fire retardant suit just in case. It hadn't hurt to be prepared after all; not that any one of them ever asked him just where exactly he'd gotten a full length deep red work suit from – probably just assumed he'd inherited it from his Father as well. Probably just taken it for granted that they were right without going through the tiresome bother of actually checking.
And they were taking it for granted right now that he would step up to the wall, tap the flaming circuits and surrounding wall a few times, and then a few times again just to be sure, before carefully closing the now flat and dull grey safe door back into place, spinning the dial as if anyone would ever think of trying to crack it, lifting the picture back up over it all before turning round to face calls of thanks and excitement and promises of pie.
But this time he didn't execute a restrained leap forward. Didn't pull his goggles down over his eyes and didn't even lift his hammer up into the air.
Instead he just stood there, watching the sparks cry and the sizzling wires writhe.
Mary laughed nervously (how can you laugh nervously after all? If you're going to laugh you should do it properly for goodness' sake) and shot a glance at Gene who was already putting on his coat to leave.
But by now the others were beginning to notice (ah about time) that he hadn't already fixed it and called out for dessert. Their polite suggestions to him turned aggressive so quickly that he felt a tingle – one of the pleasant ones from years ago – bite at his arm. He removed his goggles completely and shivered.
The wires were beginning to blacken and fray, with heavy grey smoke starting to billow around the bubbling safe door. A few of them were beginning to truly worry now; really starting to panic as a shard of hot metal cracked and escaped and shot itself at their feet; definitely about to experience some genuine terror as a tight hissing noise erupted from a carved circuit board glowing green.
He stepped back and wasn't expecting Gene to grab his shoulders, no not at all, and certainly wasn't prepared for Deanna to shout in his ear and threaten him! Actually threaten him with physical harm! Oh Lordy!
Blood pulsing thicker and stronger than it had in an age he felt his lip begin to curl upwards, took another step back and let his hammer fall to the floor, its impact silently overwritten by the safe imploding in a vortex of light and sound.