Chapter Five
The Art of the Arcade
The next morning, Mr. Litwak arrived promptly at seven o'clock, as he almost always did. Whistling an air, he strode past the various game cabinets. As he passed by Tapper's, a series of small blue lights passed through the wire and out of the game. He caught the blips out of the corner of his eye and glanced at the floor just in time to see them pass into the power strip.
"Huh?" he said. "What?"
The blue lights appeared again, this time in another wire that led them into Street Fighter II.
Mr. Litwak scratched his head. He'd seen the strange phenomenon several times before and each time, it still puzzled him. But the games never seemed to stop working as a result of it, and so he'd never asked any of the workmen about it.
You'd almost think…no, that couldn't be.
He kept going until he was in his office. Once inside, he turned on his laptop. He had a good hour before the arcade would open- more than enough time to check his email.
Accessing the internet, he signed into his account. Scrolling down the list of messages, he saw one whose title caught his eye immediately: The Art of the Arcade. Curious, he clicked on it. The message read as follows:
Dear Mr. Litwak,
As the owner of one of the oldest surviving arcades in the United States, we believe that our latest exhibit will be of especial interest to you. For this reason, we have taken the time to write you personally, inviting you to come see The Art of the Arcade, opening September 5th. The exhibit features several vintage arcade machines, including the ever famous Pong, and contains much information on the history and development of early video games from the 1970s to the early 1990s. We would welcome your presence, and would be delighted if you would stop by our office after closing for a brief chat.
Tickets for the first day will be half off.
Sincerely,
The Manager and Staff of the Museum of Arts and Technology, Wilberforce, Kansas
"It came here?" said Mr. Litwak. "That's great! I thought it was going to stay down in Fort Worth for a while longer." He smiled. "I think I'll be going to see this. Scratch that- I know I will."
During the next hour, the workers arrived and began helping to make sure everything was set up properly. At eight o'clock, Mr. Litwak unlocked the doors of the arcade.
He knew that until school, which had just started, let out for the day, there would mostly be adults. And so it proved. The arcade traffic was fairly slow until around four o'clock, when the children started to come in. As he had with the first batch of customers, Mr. Litwak greeted everyone at the door.
The last of the kids was one he recognized. Her name was Emily, and she'd been a regular customer over the past four years. She'd grown a bit since she'd first wandered in that November day, but she still had the same straw-colored hair and pink-rimmed glasses. Mr. Litwak recalled that day well- it was the day Fix-It-Felix Jr. had stopped working temporarily. He'd given Emily a replacement quarter that day for her pains.
But I still don't know how I manage to remember her name Mr. Litwak thought. So many customers come and go…
"Good Afternoon, Mr. Litwak," said Emily as she walked by.
"And the same to you," said Mr. Litwak. "How'd school go?"
"Fine," said Emily. "Not much homework the first day, so here I am."
"Well, go have fun," said Mr. Litwak. "Let me know if you need anything."
He watched as Emily sped off to try the various games. Her enthusiasm- I love it.
He walked through the center of the arcade once more, watching his customers enjoy themselves. He stepped behind his desk and sat down, his eyes still glued to the customers. They're enjoying themselves, playing arcade games.
He recalled the words from the message.
One of the oldest surviving arcades in the United States. My business is like a California condor around here. Why do they keep coming, all my customers? What do they see in this old place that brings them back time and again? Why does the new generation see the same things to keep them coming back, as the old did, and still does? It's not as if we lack consoles and internet games in Wilberforce.
Mr. Litwak kept watching as the day went on. He helped where he was needed, but mostly, he watched. He observed the laughter, the frustration, the fun. When the time came to close, he waved goodbye to all of the customers and personally saw them out of the door. He said goodbye to all of his workers, being, as usual, the last one to leave the arcade. He strode by the games once more, eyeing them carefully as he passed. He came to his old favorite, Pong, last of all.
"Hello old friend," he said. "Still bringing joy to others after nearly thirty-seven years? Good, very good." He patted the side of the arcade cabinet, and then kept walking.
At the doorway, he paused briefly.
They enjoyed themselves today. They always do. But will they keep enjoying themselves? Will they keep coming back?
Mr. Litwak exited the building and locked the doors behind him. He knew full well he had no answer, but still the question arose in his mind, like a ghostly specter of the future.
How long can it last?