Phantasos (2 page)

Two
 

SUMMER WAS SO CLOSE; A TEASE, a blank slate, an eleven week long open invitation of sleeping in, and slumber parties, and camping. No book reports due, no algebraic word problems to hand in. Two and a half months of nowhere to be with nothing to do. Bliss. Inches within reach.

The windows of Mr. Crandall’s English classroom were pulled open wide, allowing the scents of summer to dance carelessly inside. The aroma of dandelions and grass clippings drifted inward, suspended by a gentle breeze.

Benji could almost taste the freedom of summer vacation. He watched the hands on the clock above Mr. Crandall’s desk tick by, each minute hand pass slower than the one before it.

2:28 PM. Seventeen minutes until escape.

The young boy sighed, pulled in a deep breath of sweet, balmy air, and reached for his backpack. While the other students chitchatted, read paperback novels, or listened to their Walkmans, Benji was left to his lonesome.

His best friend, Alley, was a grade behind him. Alley—short for Alec—was the little brother that Benji never had. Alley’s family moved in across the street from Benji seven years earlier, so the two had practically grown up together.

His only other good friend was Alley’s older sister, Lauren. She was on the other side of the building in her last class of the day, U.S. Government.

So, with no friends around to talk to and nothing to read, Benji’s choices were limited. He could either watch the last minutes of junior high pass by painfully slow, or…

He tugged at a zipper on his backpack and pulled out a handheld video game that looked less like an electronic device and more like a big, grey brick. Gameboy—the ultimate boredom eraser. Mr. Crandall was notorious for his anti-video game stance, but surely he wouldn’t mind. Not today, at least; it was the last day of school, for crying out loud.

Benji flicked a switch on the hunk of plastic and watched the small, monochrome screen flicker to life. Tetris, his preferred game of choice when there was time to kill. A few minutes of Tetris, and the next seventeen minutes would fly by in no time—

“Mr. Bauer, what do you have there? What do you think you’re doing?”

Mr. Crandall looked up from behind his newspaper. It never ceased to amaze Benji how a teacher could always tell if you were misbehaving—even if they weren’t looking at you. It was as if some psychic, extrasensory ability alerted Mr. Crandall to the boy’s rule breaking.

“I thought—”

“Thought what exactly, Mr. Bauer? That, because it’s the last day of class, some magic wand has been waved? The rules don’t apply any longer?”

Benji gave his teacher a blank stare.

“You know the rules. No electronic devices. Put it away.”

Benji rolled his eyes and scanned the classroom, making note of the several students who were listening to their Walkmans. To talk back to his teacher would be a bit daring; but, it was the last day of junior high, after all. Benji would never again have to sit through another one of Mr. Crandall’s dull lectures, and he doubted the teacher would give him detention, or make him stay after class. Benji was well aware that the teachers were as anxious for summer to start as the students were.

Considering all of this, Benji bravely said, “Rodney Frye is listening to his Sony. Why aren’t you telling him to put it away?”

Rodney, never a fan of Benji’s to begin with, caught his accusation just barely over the heavy guitars of his
Powerslave
cassette and shot him a dirty glare.
Don’t drag me into this, twerp.

“Fine, Mr. Bauer. If that’s the direction you’d like to take this.” Mr. Crandall folded his newspaper flat and placed it atop his desk. He stood up straight, a prison warden, and knocked on the chalkboard a few times to get everyone’s attention. The students hushed their conversations, turned forward, and listened.

“Attention, class. As you’re all well aware, I have a zero-tolerance policy regarding video games in my classroom. They rot the mind, and—mark my words—if left unchecked, they’ll be the downfall of your generation. I’d like to thank those of you who have been respectful of this policy, but Mr. Bauer here thinks he has stumbled upon some great injustice.”

Benji gulped and looked at the clock.
Fourteen minutes left. Why are you doing this to me?

“You see, class, it’s in Mr. Bauer’s opinion that if electronic games are banished between my walls, then
all
electronic devices should be forbidden. So, pack them up.”

The students looked around at one another in collective disbelief.

“You heard me, pack them up. While you’re at it, pack up your papers and books as well. I want to see clean desks. We can ride out the last few moments of the year in idle silence, and you can thank Mr. Bauer for that luxury.”

The room filled with groans, grumbles, and murmurs. All around him, Benji’s peers shot him dirty glances.

Rodney looked particularly pissed. He yanked his backpack off the floor, tossed it on his desk, and—

Crack.

Rodney’s backpack clipped his Walkman, causing it to slide from the edge of his desk, hit the floor, and shatter. The room went silent; students sitting by him watched as his Iron Maiden cassette slid across the tiled floor, spools of brown tape dragging behind it. Rodney extended a fat, meaty hand to pick up the pieces, and his freckled cheeks flushed red. The room erupted into laughter.

Benji watched in horror. Rodney was never a friend, never an acquaintance; quite the opposite, he was a bully. A brutish, dimwitted boy who was quick to anger. From across the room, Benji could see the gears turning in Rodney’s plump head, as if he was peeking into his skull with an x-ray machine.

Benji thought:
This was all my fault. He will blame me for this, and it will be hell.

When class was dismissed, Benji sprinted to his locker. A quick, clean sweep of the locker and he’d be on his way home, pedaling furiously away from school and the awful Rodney Frye.

“Benji,” a thin, frail voice called from behind his locker door.

Without looking up, Benji said, “What’s up, Alley?” He flung papers and folders into his backpack, stuffing it tight, until it was bursting at the seems.

Alley took a step back; Benji sounded upset and he didn’t want to be in his way. “What’s got you all kirked out?”

“I gotta get out of here quick. Rodney Frye wants my ass.”

“Why?”

“I broke his Walkman.”

“What—why, how?”

Benji exhaled, then slammed his empty locker shut. “Where’s your sister?”

“She took the bus.”

“You should catch a ride with her, Alley. I need to get out of here fast.”

“But…” Alley looked down at his shoes. “We always ride together. Besides, the bus already left.”

Benji ran his fingers through his hair. “Is your locker clean?”

“Yeah, I cleaned it yesterday.”

“All right, then let’s hightail it outta here.”

Students poured out of the front entrance of Grand Ridge High School, a raucous crowd. Cheers were yelled, papers were tossed high in the air; truly, there was no sweeter moment than the first few minutes of summer vacation. Grand Ridge stood as a prison behind them, and it had just released all of the inmates.

“No more pencils, no more books!”

“No more teachers dirty looks!”

“Who wants to grab some ‘Za at Merloni’s?”

“Anyone wanna split a bean with me?”

“We’re free!”

Benji couldn’t join in the excited chorus of students; he knew that Rodney was a slow mover, so a head start on him would mean the difference between a relaxing bike ride home and having his ass beat on the first day of vacation.

Benji dropped to a knee beside the bike rack near the front parking lot and fumbled with his lock. Swarms of students passed on either side of him.

“Is he coming?” Benji asked.

Alley looked left and right, studying the faces in the crowd. “I don’t see him.”

“Good.”

“Do you really think he’s that cheesed off at you?”

The bike lock clicked open and Benji yanked his Huffy free. “Yeah, I do, Al. You weren’t there. You should have seen how angry his stupid, fat face looked.”

“What’d you just say, Benjamin Bauer?”

Benji gulped. Without having to turn around, he immediately recognized the voice behind him.

Alley mouthed the words: “I’m sorry! I didn’t see him.”

“Get your ass over here, wastoid,” Rodney yelled. “We got a score to settle.”

Three

DANNY WAS SWEEPING THE REAR CORNER of the arcade, where the Centaur pinball table once was, aggravated by Todd’s lack of help. Moving around heavy arcade cabinets was a two-person job, at least; probably more if Planet X could afford the extra staff. Yet, Danny was the one stuck making the necessary arrangements, despite Todd’s earlier promises that he would help.

“I’ll get it to you next Wednesday,” Danny heard Todd yell from the office. “Next Wednesday is the earliest—well, whatever, screw you too, lady!” Then, the sound of a phone receiver slamming down.

He’s arguing with debt collectors again,
Danny thought.
This is it; we’re really going to tank.
For a moment Danny stared at the Phantasos machine, still yet to be plugged in, and tried to ignore the sour feeling it was giving him. An extra five hundred dollars a month would go a long way towards returning Planet X to its former glory.

Todd came storming from the back office.

“This isn’t done yet, Dan?”

“Hey, dude, I’m trying—”

“It’s the last day of school, for Chrissake! This is a big day for us, in a couple of hours this place will be swarming with kids!”

“I’m trying the best I can,” Danny said firmly.

Todd put his hands on his hips, looked around the arcade, then put a palm to his forehead. “Listen, I’m sorry man, I know I said I would help you with all of this. I got caught up with some things, and—”

“It’s okay,” Danny said, sweeping a clump of dirt and hair and three-year-old popcorn kernels into a dustpan.

“I’ve been pretty miserable around here lately, haven’t I?” Todd said. He clicked his tongue and stared off at the front window of Planet X. “I get this way around this time of year.” He shook his head. “I get into one of my moods. I find myself thinking about the day that Shelly left me.”

Danny didn’t know what to say or how to react. Todd rarely spoke of his former fiancé, Shelly. It was a sore subject, so Danny tried to avoid it at all costs. The mere mention of her name typically brought feelings of anger, resentment, and sadness along with it.

Sensing the uncomfortable silence in the room Todd said, “I know I’ve been bugging out about the arcade, too. But it’s all going to turn around, you’ll see—”

Knock. Knock.

A rap at the front door interrupted Todd’s apology; he turned to face the door, cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “We’re not open yet!”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knocks were slower and more deliberate this time. Todd huffed, raised his eyebrows and said to Danny, “The hours are posted on the damn door. Some people just can’t read, huh?”

Danny shrugged.

“Wait here, I’ll take care of this,” Todd said, and he stomped away towards the front entrance.

“Hey,” he said, opening the door. “I said we’re not open—” he paused, intimidated by the large fellow in front of him, “yet.”

“I’m well aware,” the man at the door said. “I’ll only be needing a moment of your time.” The gentleman was dressed in a slim-fitting black suit, and right away Todd wondered how much it cost and why someone would wear such an outfit in the middle of summer.

“What can I help you with?” Todd said, standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

The gentleman took off his hat. “Please,” he said, “you are Mr. Todd Prower, correct?”

Todd felt his heart leap into his throat and swallowed hard. A stranger in a clean suit who knew Todd by name…
It’s a debt collector,
Todd thought, and for a moment he imagined how quickly he could escape through the rear exit. Probably not fast enough. And besides, that wouldn’t be fair to Danny, leaving the poor guy alone while a team of strangers seized the arcade’s assets—

“Excuse me, but are you feeling ill, Mr. Prower?” the stranger asked. The stranger extended a gloved hand. “My name is Herman Varghese; I’m here on behalf of the Vidtronix Games Corporation. I believe we spoke on the phone last week.”

“Vid…Vidtronix?” Todd stuttered.

“Yes, sir.”

Todd slapped his forehead. “Vidtronix! Of course, Mr. Varghese, please, come right in,” and he held the door open for his visitor. “Can I offer you a glass of water? Soda pop? Cotton candy?”

Mr. Varghese smiled politely. “No, thank you, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be in and out, lickety-split. Your Phantasos machine was delivered this morning, without a hitch I hope?”

“Yes, sir, it was,” Todd said, and he cleared his throat. “It’s right this way,” he said, and he led Mr. Varghese towards the center of the room.

“Ah, there she is,” Mr. Varghese said, standing before the great cabinet. “Phantasos.” He clasped his hands together, and it unnerved Todd; the suit, the gloves—it was 89 degrees outside for goodness sake! And, on top of those peculiarities, Mr. Varghese was standing before Phantasos, looking at the machine like a lost lover that he hadn’t seen in years.

“I am thrilled that the delivery went well,” Mr. Varghese said. “Last week we had a delivery to an arcade in Portland, and the deliverymen dropped the damn thing. She is a bit top-heavy, a problem that I guarantee will be resolved in the final production models.” Mr. Varghese slid his hand across the control panel of the machine, the dark buttons clicking beneath his fingers. “Caused $1,300 worth of repairs, those fellows in Portland. Unreal. They’re very delicate machines, you must be careful with them.”

Danny, who was standing nearby, couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Arcade cabinets were meant to be sturdy, meant to stand up to abuse. A good cabinet had to be able to take a beating, take slaps of frustration and anger, and soda spills, and all of the mistreatments that come with losing at a video game. Danny thought of the vicious runts who would be filling the arcade in a couple of hours; Phantasos wasn’t going to last a minute.

“Is everything okay?” Todd said. “I mean, your visit—”

“Ah,” Mr. Varghese said, “nothing to worry about. I am here to perform the final calibrations on the machine, nothing more. Is this where you will keep it?”

“Yep,” Todd said. “That’s the spot. We don’t plan on moving it from there.”

“And have you plugged it in yet?”

“Nope.”

Mr. Varghese smiled. “Wonderful, just wonderful. I love to be present when they’re turned on for the first time. Go ahead and plug her in now.”

Todd nodded to Danny, and Danny dropped to the floor. He ran the plug from the machine into a power strip, then the power strip into a socket behind the cabinet.

Phantasos hummed and came to life. The white panel at the top of it blinked a few times, then remained lit, brightly illuminating the name of the machine.

Mr. Varghese smiled, grabbed a long key from a suit pocket, and knelt beside the machine. He inserted the key into a lock concealed on the side of the machine, and a small door into the cabinet opened.

“Some final adjustments,” he said. “I’ll only be a moment, then she’s all yours.”

Mr. Varghese had left, and the arcade would be open in an hour or so. Danny and Todd stood before Phantasos, examining the machine, neither knowing quite what to make of it.

“Don’t you want to try it?” Todd asked.

“I’ll pass,” Danny said. “That guy gave me the creeps. But, by all means, go ahead. Do the honors.
”

Todd grinned, plunked four quarters into the front coin slot, and Phantasos groaned to life. A quiet choir of singing emanated from a speaker on top of the cabinet—Danny thought it was a bit dramatic. As the singing crescendoed, a dark headset descended from the top of the cabinet until it was nearly eyelevel with Todd. Todd stood in front of the headset and pressed his face into it, then rested his fingers on the round, plastic buttons in front of him. He pulled down on the goggles gently—Mr. Varghese said they were adjustable, to accommodate players of varying heights—and began to play.

Danny stood to the side, watching his friend play. Todd’s mouth hung open, speechless.

“Well?” Danny finally asked, tired of waiting for some commentary.

“Danny,” Todd said, “it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Danny watched his friend pull on a joystick and play his new game, but then he shivered, and had to turn to look behind himself, just to make sure that there was no one there.