Chapter Twenty-Six
Repairs
Albert Rae had intended to kick-off his retirement with a nostalgic vacation, which is why he'd arranged to visit his childhood home. Not that Wilberforce, Kansas was among the most notable cities in the United States- except, perhaps, among gamers.
Scratch that- among non-gamers too. One doesn't own one the most successful arcades in the nation without the town you're in getting some sort of recognition. There's a reason The Art of the Arcade ended up passing through this place.
But the non-gamers' interest usually consisted of little more than a passing acknowledgment of the historic value of Litwak's Arcade. It wasn't that they hated gaming -though there were always some who did- so much as they just weren't all that interested.
Different strokes for different folks I guess. But me- I am interested. I've been a videogame developer all these years for a reason. Now, if only I could have seen the old arcade again. Instead, I find him an invalid.
He scratched his chin. What a way to meet your best friend again after ten years.
He glanced about the living room of Mr. Litwak's home, at which he had just arrived mere moments before. The arcade owner was resting in one of his chairs, his face a blend of disappointment and happiness. It was a strange combination to witness.
"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better welcome," said Mr. Litwak. "I'd take you down to the old place but, well…you know."
Albert did know. Stan Litwak's heart attack, his release from the hospital, and the temporary closure of the arcade, were all big events for a small city like Wilberforce. When he'd stepped off the airplane Albert hadn't gone more than twelve paces past the terminal entrance before he'd overheard people discussing the news. Not long afterwards, he'd seen a newspaper stand with the front page discussing the storyline. It had apparently been a week, and Mr. Litwak had been discharged the day before, so he could rest and recover at home. Albert had headed straight for Mr. Litwak's home.
"But why a month?" Albert asked him. "What exactly happened? The papers were unclear."
"I haven't let the word out yet," said Mr. Litwak. "But I can trust you to keep it to yourself. Every single screen- busted. Won't turn on."
"Every one?"
"And the surge protector got fried somehow. It's still working as a power strip, but it won't block voltage spikes until we can get it repaired."
"I guess I'd better get down there and have a look at things, then," said Albert. "You got a key to the place on you?"
"I couldn't ask you to do that-" Mr. Litwak began, but Albert cut him off with a raised hand.
"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said. "I'm going to fix that surge protector. As for the games, I can at least see if I can deduce what the problem is. This stuff's my forte."
"All right, have it your way" said Mr. Litwak, smiling. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys to the arcade, and handed them to Albert. "You see what you can do. When you're back, we'll work out the payment."
"I'm set for retirement, Stan," Albert replied. "You don't need to pay me this time. Consider it a favor to an old friend."
"Now really, Albert," said Mr. Litwak. "I couldn't possibly allow that."
"Well, if it makes you feel better, you can buy me lunch," said Albert.
Mr. Litwak sighed. "Fine, I give up."
"That's better," said Albert. He headed for the door.
Four hours later, he was back.
"How did it go?" Mr. Litwak asked him.
"I replaced the damaged parts of the power strip," said Albert. "So it should be fine now. But the games-"
"What happened?"
"It's a rather unusual case. I'm not sure how to explain it."
"Are you sure whatever hit the surge protector didn't hit the games?"
"Positive. But there was something else."
"What?"
"A miniscule tweak in the coding. The same one over and over again. It should have been simple to fix, but every time I undid it on one game, it came back a few minutes later, when I'd already moved onto the next. It was almost as if the machines didn't want to be fixed…as if they had a mind of their own."
Mr. Litwak blinked incredulously. "What are you saying?"
"I'm not really sure," said Albert. "But one thing I know- none of the screens will turn on. If Daniel can't fix them when he gets back…"
Mr. Litwak sighed. "I know Albert. I know."
Inside the walls of the power strip, Surge blinked and opened his eyes.
Wait. How am I blinking?
He held up a hand and gazed upon it. It was pale, ghostly in color, almost wispy thin- but it was definitely there.
What happened? One week of nothing but exhaustion, of watching these bullies, listening to them…
He stood up. He felt restored. He couldn't assume his human-form fully, but the power was flowing into him. In a few days, he would be able to re-materialize in full.
But I can already move about...wait!
He paused, listening, as that straw-haired girl approached the wall. Beside her was one of the snowmen.
"The parts were replaced, you say?" she said to the snowman.
"Yes, Madame President," the snowman replied. "Should we have Ainsworth fry it again?"
"Before he does that, I want to see if the surge protector comes back. I won't have him re-materializing. Then again, merely putting in replacement parts might not let him do that instantly."
"But what if it does?"
"We still need some power so long as we stay in this wretched cesspit; take out the power and we might be at risk. I won't fry the power strip directly again unless I have no other choice. Just be on the lookout for Old Surge. If he turns up, we'll settle him as easily as we did before."
Not likely Surge thought. Because if everything goes my way this time, you won't even know my form's returning until I've made my plans.
But what to do? Who to make plans with? Aha! I know just who. It's an alliance I'd never have imagined I'd make, but as they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Slowly, carefully, Surge dematerialized, allowing the particles of his body to float towards his destination…