Chapter Twenty-Three
One Month's Time
When Johnson entered Litwak's Arcade early in the morning of September 7th, it was with a feeling of relief. Mr. Litwak had indeed had a heart attack, as he'd suspected. Fortunately, the EMTs had reached him in time and he'd been stabilized. By the end of the day, the word was in: he would live, but it would take him a full month to recover. Upon receiving the news, Mr. Litwak had immediately asked that he, Johnson, see that the arcade remained open every business day until he was well again. Johnson would have agreed even it wasn't a command from employer to employee. Everyone who had ever been to Litwak's Arcade knew how much it meant to its owner. They could see it in his mannerisms, hear it in his words.
Anything for Uncle Stan.
The thought occurred as Johnson was closing the front doors behind him. He let go the door handle, allowing it to slam shut.
Don't call him that, he's your employer, not your family member.
But he felt that way. All of the employees did. Mr. Litwak was just that genial.
Johnson glanced about the arcade. The other staff members were already present, setting up everything for when the arcade would open. The only task remaining was to switch on the cabinet screens.
Johnson knew the routine, had done it often for the past five years. So habitual did the act of flipping the switches on the cabinet backs feel that it wasn't until he was finished that he noticed something was wrong. None of the screens had turned on.
Frowning, he checked the power switches on the cabinets again.
All of them are in the 'on' position. So why aren't the screens showing any of the opening animations? These others aren't like Pong, where the screen's so black anyway that it took a customer to discover it wasn't working
By this time, his fellow employees had noticed the issue as well, and had begun to gather around the cabinets.
"All the switches are on," said Johnson. "I checked."
One of the other employees had been examining the power strip. He now stood up, a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't understand it," he said. "We just had it patched up two months ago, but the power strip has lost its surge protection capabilities."
"It couldn't have gotten fried," said Johnson. "There hasn't been any lightning in the area."
"I saw what I saw," said the employee. "We're going to have to get it repaired again."
"What's the good of that, if the games won't turn on?" said another employee.
"There is no good in it, Ron," said Johnson. "If we can't get any of these games fixed, we're sunk. At any rate, we won't be opening today."
"Probably not for a month or so," Ron replied. "Daniel's on vacation until October, so we don't have our repairman."
"I don't begrudge him his time off," said Johnson. "Twenty years of working here- he's earned it. But I sure wish he were here right now."
"Nobody else here can repair arcade cabinet screens, can they?" Ron asked.
"I could try," said Johnson. "I know a bit. On the other hand, I'd need Mr. Litwak's okay on that." He shook his head. "Oh man, what are we going to tell him?"
"That he shouldn't have given Daniel such a long break?"
"That's not our place, Ron," said Johnson. "But I need to go see him, see what he wants to do. I expect he'll want to wait for Daniel to get back, but that'll mean no business before next month. How we'll make up for that kind of a loss, I don't know."
From their position within the power strip, Portia and Mr. Ainsworth heard all. As the arcade staff turned the switches to the cabinet screens back into their off positions and prepared to leave, she glanced over at the mercenary. His expression was more neutral than usual.
"A skillful job, friend," said Portia.
"A hack job," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Anyone with half an ounce of knowledge about code hacking could fix what I did in five minutes. Unfortunately, if I was to get every game, it was all I had time for."
"Whatever you did, it did its job," Portia replied. "Just keep it that way until their repairman returns."
"In a month," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Do you and your crew have the resources to occupy this place for a month?"
"You let me worry about that," said Portia. "Meantime, you go have your fun."
Mr. Ainsworth grinned. "Oh trust me, I will," he said. He turned to go
"And Mr. Ainsworth," said Portia. The mercenary paused.
"Yes?"
"Never doubt SANG. We'd occupy Litwak's for a year if it took that long."
"You're a right band of zealots," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Catch you later, Madame President. If you'll excuse me, I need to continue collecting my fee."
"Of course," said Portia. "But stay ready, in case I need you."
"You hired me, I'm at your disposal," said Mr. Ainsworth. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone.
Several minutes later, Portia heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Bruce. The soldier held a leather belt in his hand, with a golden hammer thrust into it. This he handed to Portia.
"I know what it is," she said. "You did well to confiscate it."
"And in other news," said Bruce, "the sign's up- the arcade is closed for the day."
"And in all likelihood, for the rest of the month," said Portia.
"I heard," said Bruce. "Are you ready to let the scum start wandering around?"
"Yes. Just don't let them near the codes."
"We'll be guarding the code chamber entrances, as per your orders."
"Good. You may go then."
Bruce hesitated.
"Yes?" said Portia. "What is it?"
"You've heard about Wreck-It Ralph?"
"I saw the ones he wounded," said Portia.
"Are you sure you want me to let him out of that energy field?"
"He deserves the same chance as the others," said Portia. "If he does act up, you leave him to me." She flexed her fingers meaningfully. "You are dismissed, soldier."
Bruce saluted and hurried off to fulfill his orders, leaving Portia standing beside the wall of the power strip. She eyed it calmly.
"One month," she said aloud. "That's all you have left, Old Surge- one month. And then you will have your reward of death."