During the following days, school seemed to have finally taken a turn for the better for Malcolm: he was more relaxed, and so were his classmates. Apparently, without an agitator and the constant threat of physical harm, everybody felt a lot less pressure. Even studying felt easier. Yet, something was still worrying him, lingering at the back of his mind. He expected to be summoned to the principal's office any time for lashing out at his English teacher, and he feared the prospect of disciplinary action.
During a break, when he could no longer stand the feeling and saw the principal taking coffee, he approached him.

"Mister Pratchert", said Malcolm, "There's something important I need to tell you."
"Frink, what's the problem?"
"Some days ago Alan Grossberg beat me up. Professor Kosinski put all the blame on me and I snapped at her, but Mrs. Starkey saw everything and..."

The principal smiled benignly: "No need to worry. I suggest you to expend your mental energy on something constructive: the school's closed-circuit cameras have recorded everything, and I know exactly who is and who isn't to blame."
That was a surprising outcome. "Oh. thank you, mister Pratchert" Malcolm said after a couple of seconds. "I will follow your advice. After all, a bully is just another brick in the wall."
As Malcolm started walking away, the principal called him back. "Frink! That's not at all what that song means."
Malcolm, who had only ever heard about Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the Wall, but never actually listened to it, stopped and turned his head. "What does it mean, then?"
"I wouldn't be a good principal, if I told you. Goodbye, Frink."

After the principal had left, the cafeteria lady called Malcolm with a "Hey!" and a whistle. "I heard my name" she said. "You weren't complaining about my cooking, were you?"
"No, Mrs. Starkey" said Malcolm, "I never even tasted it."
"Good" she concluded. "I used to be a sniper in Iraq, and if someone badmouths my delicacies, they're gonna know what it means to piss off a veteran."
Malcolm looked at her smugly. "Seriously" he said. "Which war?"
"All of them!" she replied with the same smugness.
Malcolm just shook his head as he left.

At the next IT class, after Professor Stone had explained the concept of recursion, Yoli asked Malcolm for his cell phone number, to arrange for a meeting to do homework together.
As Malcolm explained why he no longer had a cell phone, an idea popped into his mind.
"I'll buy a replacement this afternoon" he added. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

At home, he prepared his plan: he would use his father's video camera, which was now capable to digitize reality. He could not just go to the store and digitize a cell phone, because he needed a new contract, but there was another way.

He reached a sufficiently remote bank, right after closing time. Hiding behind a hedge, he focussed the camera on the front of the local ATM and pressed Rec. The entire front wall of the cash machine collapsed into a tiny starlike object which flew into the camera.
Few seconds later, he did the same with the now exposed, and open, cash repository.
Focussing on the ground and pressing Play caused almost ten thousand dollars to appear next to his feet. He pocketed what he needed and digitized the rest again.

Creek Side Center Mall had two computer stores. One, where Malcolm was going, sold hardware and software from pretty much every major manufacturer and had a very practical approach toward the clientele.
The other store, located near the mall's main entrance to have a major prominence, was single-brand and only sold Intel products. When Malcolm walked past it, he sneered: he could not stand places like that. While they might have looked attractive, all painted black, with phosphorescent green finishings and ultraviolet lights that made them look like cybergoth clubs, the purpose of those stores disgusted him. They were designed from the ground up to advertise a brand, not a product. The very products they sold were made as status symbols: stylish, but incredibly expensive and inefficient.
Why would anyone even consider an Intel product? He could never answer that question. Since 1985, the industry standard had been the Amiga technology, which allowed for much higher performance at a much lower price. The proven 680x0 processors were used everywhere: from desktop systems to laptops, cell phones, tablets and watches. An Intel computer typically cost three times as much as an Amiga computer of equivalent performance, and yet, those stores were always full of zealots, defending the Intel brand because "it's made for creative people" (no matter that Amiga computers had even more creativity software available), because "it just works" (no matter how much evidence they were shown that cheaper Amiga systems worked better) and because it was "the computer for the rest of us" (or "for the rest of them", as Malcolm liked to put it).

On the way to the store, Malcolm passed a man who was having an animated discussion on his cell phone.
"Forget it! That kind of threat doesn't work with me!" the man could be heard yelling.
"No, you leave her out of this!"
"Listen carefully, you piece of shit, if you ever touch my daughter, I swear to fucking God I'm gonna set you on fire!"

"Someone has big problems" thought Malcolm.

The computer store was crowded, because the latest model of ViCPhone had come out few days earlier, and Commodore's offer of a variable discount in exchange for a cell phone of a competing brand was about to expire.

Malcolm walked straight to the cashier's desk. The cashier, a 20-something guy wearing a polo shirt with the name of the store and a badge with the name Raymond on it, turned to him.
"You here for the phone?" the cashier asked.
"Yes."
"Pick your queue ticket at the entrance. When the display on the wall shows your number, it's your turn."

There were over thirty customers before Malcolm, so he reached the demo kiosks where people could try out games for the current generation of consoles.
One of them was occupied by a little girl with brown hair, apparently getting frustrated by the current game scenario.

A quick glance at the screen was enough to make Malcolm interested. "It's Mercenary 4!" he said to himself, approaching the Konix Dominator kiosk.
As he watched the little girl play and get destroyed over and over by the alien mothership, it was clear that she did not realize she needed to change her strategy.
"You're doing it wrong" he finally said.

The little girl paused the game and turned toward Malcolm. "Will you do it for me?" she asked, handing the joypad to him.
Malcolm grabbed the joypad and flew the player's spacecraft away from the alien ship. "The Nephilim's mothership can see you're not one of them" he said. "It will always destroy you unless you're flying one of their ships."
"Where do I get the right ship?" asked the little girl.
"I don't want to spoil much of the plot" said Malcolm while flying the player's ship to another planet, "but if you can't do something immediately, you can still have fun. Mercenary 4 gives you a whole solar system to explore, so... explore! Discover! Go wild!"

Malcolm smiled as he explained the game, and could see that now the little girl was smiling too. He handed the joypad to her, and she promptly grabbed it.
The little girl started flying above the new planet, following Malcolm's suggestion, then landed near a peculiarly shaped building.
"My name's Elizabeth" she said. "Elizabeth Collins. What's your name?"
"Malcolm."
"Do you have a Dominator, Malcolm?"
"No, an Amiga 9000."
"My parents have an Amiga, but they won't let me use it. Did you ever play this game?"
"Yes, of course. It's my second favorite game of all time."
"What's the first?"
"For now, Mortal Kombat Rebirth."

In the game, Elizabeth had located an interesting object. "You found the antigrav!" said Malcolm. "Pick it up, it lets you do something... unusual. I'll let you find out what."

They went on like that for a while: Elizabeth played the game; Malcolm gave her just enough hints to keep it interesting without spoiling the pleasure of discovery. And then, during a slow phase of the game, she told him: "You know, I got an A+ in Math today!"
After a brief pause, Malcolm asked: "Is that why you're here now?"
"Yeah, my parents are gonna buy me a new video game!" she said.

Instinctively, Malcolm patted Elizabeth's head. "You're smart" he said. "What game do you want?"
"This one" she said.
"You have good tastes" he added.

Malcolm looked at the display on the wall. Not his turn yet.

A particular sound effect and Elizabeth's exclamation of "Hey! What just happened?" made Malcolm turn his attention to the game again.
"You just found a teleporter" he said. "A moment ago you were in a building on Eris, now you're outside a building on Gaea." Then he got an idea. "Can I show you a trick with the teleporter?" he asked.
Elizabeth gave him the joypad, and he showed her how to reach an area that was not meant to be accessible. This really impressed her, and she asked "What's that supposed to be?" looking with amazement at the screen.
Malcolm crouched to reach her eye level. "It may be hard to understand now because you never used a computer, but this is really a nice glimpse on how the game is programmed. If you're curious about programming, you should ask your parents to help you find some material for beginners on the Internet."
"Are you sure I would understand it? I'm just eight years old!"
"Don't let that stop you. I started at six." Malcolm replied.
Elizabeth opened her mouth in awe. Malcolm just nodded.
"Did you learn it at school?" she asked.
"No, my dad taught me, and I learned a lot by myself. At school, some teachers may try to make you hate subjects you like. Don't fall for that. Cultivate your passions."
"You're very kind" concluded Elizabeth. "I like talking with you."
Malcolm smiled. Someone appreciated his way of thinking.

After playing some more, Malcolm's number appeared on the display. He took his queue number out of his pocket and reached the cashier's desk. "One ViCPhone XL. I want to activate a new contract."
The cashier reached under the desk and produced a sealed box with the Commodore logo, stopping right before scanning the barcode on it. "Are you interested in our premium assistance service for only 59.99 dollars?" he asked.
"No" replied Malcolm.
"But if it breaks, we'll repair it for free for one year!"
"The legal warranty terms are two years."
"If you get a virus, we'll also remove it for free."
"I've been around computers since I was born. This phone is not going to get a virus unless I intentionally put it there."
"You're too young to know about security..."

That was it for Malcolm. "Listen... Raymond" he interrupted the cashier, looking straight into his eyes. "Do you need to act like that with every customer in order to be paid? If you don't, then let me stoop to your level and put it in terms you understand. Me give money. You give phone."
"Fine, fine" said Raymond. "I just wanted to help." He scanned the barcode and gave the receipt to Malcolm. "It's $599.98."
Malcolm gave six hundred dollars to the cashier, who opened the cash register and said: "Sorry, I don't have the change."
"Then I'm leaving the phone here" said Malcolm.
"What? Come on, it's just two cents!"
"Two cents that belong to me, not to you."
"You can't..."
"Yes, I can. But I will only give it to your supervisor, not to you."
"Wait. I'm going to get your change."

Raymond disappeared behind the back door and returned thirty seconds later with two cents. When the paperwork was done and the smartphone was activated, Malcolm took the coins and the phone, and then left, satisfied.

Walking past the general store, he spotted Elizabeth again. She was smiling and pointing at him, while talking to a woman with short red hair. He approached them. "Oh, here's this Malcolm I heard about" said the woman. "My daughter said you've been very nice with her."
"And he taught me how to play Mercenary 4!" added Elizabeth.
"Do you have any siblings, Malcolm?" asked her mother.
"No, why?"
"Most boys your age don't have much patience with little kids. I thought you had experience."
"I just remember how I wanted to be treated when I was her age."

"I wish I had siblings" Elizabeth chimed in. "It'd be nice to always have someone to play with."
"Maybe you would like it. Maybe not." intervened Malcolm.
"With a brother like you, I would" she said.
"But if you had a brother, you would be different" he replied. "Your memories, your thoughts, your way to interact with the world... have all been shapen by being an only child. If you had a brother, they'd be completely different. You would be another person. It's what I realized about myself when I was twelve."

Elizabeth made a thoughtful expression, not completely convinced.
Her mother gave her a light push on the back and hurried her: "Come on, say goodbye. We gotta go."
Elizabeth turned to Malcolm and said: "Crouch!"
Puzzled, Malcolm just remained there. Elizabeth incited him again: "Come on, Malcolm, crouch!"
Malcolm did it, so Elizabeth hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek, while Mrs. Collins commented with an "Aww!"

Malcolm reciprocated, and immediately after, he felt someone forcefully grab him by his shoulders.
Behind him, the voice of a man exclaimed: "Gotcha! Who sent you?"