You don't mind if I keep going? Okay, sure.
Picking up my cane, I began working my way towards the front door of my home. Yeah, it is a pretty big place for one person to have been living here, especially someone with my setbacks. When my parents passed on, everything that they had passed on to me, including their home. I'd considered living elsewhere, but after some thought, I decided to stay, viewing it as an opportunity to keep in shape. After all, it would be so easy to let things atrophy...
Anyhow, it took me a little bit of time to reach the front door. Agent Smith had said thirty minutes, tops, and it had already taken twenty minutes to get to this point, so I figured he'd be arriving with his associates shortly. It seems I had timed things exactly right, because the moment I reached the front door, there was a rather polite knock at the door.
That didn't sound like Smith: Too quiet, too polite, and the knock came from much lower on the door than it would be for someone his size. I was almost certain that it was a girl-scout, honestly. I opened the door, and I was half-right: It was a girl, and a rather... small one.
I estimated her age to be somewhere between nineteen and twenty-five. She was a little less than five feet tall (Less than 152 centimeters, for those of you who prefer metrics), with brown hail tied back in a bun, and big brown eyes, magnified by a pair of coke bottle glasses. Her face was covered with freckles, and she dressed in a manner that could only be called 'nondescript': Brown was the main theme, covering a modest figure. She looked almost ridiculously ordinary, honestly. Overall, the effect was that of a mouse wearing glasses. Admittedly, it was a cute mouse, but she wasn't really my type. The fact that she was clutching a laptop against her chest proclaimed her identity louder than words. This had to be Smith's 'tech-expert'.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Can I help you?" Better to play dumb, just in case: Smith would be peeved if it turned out I was wrong. You guys understand how it goes, right? The first rule of Magic Club is: You do not talk about Magic Club.
Looking me up and down, she immediately made an assumption. "I'm sorry," she said, meekly, "I think I have the wrong address. Do you know where Hiro Ecks lives?"
"You're looking at him," I said with a chuckle.
Looking me up and down with an expression that practically screamed, "Are you sure?" she examined me more closely. I couldn't blame her, really: When folks hear that I'm half-Japanese, a gamer, and physically handicapped, they form certain expectations of how I should look. They expect someone who would be shorter, and skinnier, for one thing: People often forget that Japan is the home of sumo wrestling, and my uncle, on my mother's side, was heavily into the sport. In addition to that, while my mother herself might have been petite, in high school and college my father was a linebacker. He could have gone pro, but decided to go into the family business instead. End result? I'm six foot eight and a little over two hundred fifty pounds. I'm not the most muscular guy in the world, but I keep in decent shape: After what happened to my foot, I got in the habit of doing physical therapy exercises. It would have been far too easy for me to fall into a deep funk, spend all day in a chair, and eventually atrophy to the point that I need a wheelchair to move around. When I got out of the hospital, though, I decided 'Fuck that shit', and made sure that my morning routine always included at least a half hour of exercise. There's plenty of reasons to be wheelchair-bound: Being too lazy should not be one of them. I did, however, inherit from my mother's side of the family vaguely aristocratic-looking features and straight black hair. Beyond that, not much else. Folks have often commented on whether or not it was even physically possible for someone my size to have come out of my mother, but I was a late-bloomer: I didn't start getting really big until after I turned sixteen.
Aren't preconceptions funny? People forget that gamers these days come from all walks of life, and are all ages, from six to sixty. I'm not kidding about that last part: When I bought Fallout 3, I met an elderly man who was buying the same game. I asked him if he was getting it for his grandkids. His response? "Screw my grandkids, they can get their parents to buy them a copy. This one's mine!"
You never know who you might be playing against, these days. I once played a round of CoD Modern Warfare against a team composing of a sixteen year old, his father, and his grandmother... and granny ended up having the best kill versus death ratio at the end of the match.
Anyways, sorry I went off on a tangent. Moving on!
Smiling, I asked, "Not what you expected?"
Blushing, the young lady replied, "Not really." Looking at my pajamas, and my bunny slippers, she observed, "You're dressed a little casually..."
I thumped my cane on the floor (I can keep my balance on my good foot quite well, thank you) and said, "Changing clothes is a bit of a hassle for me, there really hasn't been time. Besides, everything is covered properly, as is." Smiling, I added, "So, where are the others?"
Blushing, she admitted, "I'm a little closer, but I live in the opposite direction from where Agent... Smith is coming from, so I drove here on my own. He'll be here shortly with the others." Extending her hand, and struggling to keep her laptop up with one arm, she added, "Agent Mouse, at your service. Magi-tech specialist."
Agents don't use their real names in the field: There's too many ways that one's 'True Name' can be used against them. Thankfully, the name actually has to have been spoken within a brief time period for that kind of magic to work, otherwise all it would take for the fair folk to conquer the world is access to birth records. Still, it is an interesting security precaution. Amusingly enough, after meeting me, Smith decided to change his code name. He used to be Agent Orange. I've heard that a lot of agents go by code names that have some sort of a joke in them. Mouse's was apparently a comment both on her expertise with technology and her somewhat mouse-ish appearance. I idly wondered if she had chosen that one, or it had had been chosen for her.
Taking her hand and giving it a small shake, I said, "A pleasure. I'll... lead you to the computer in question. I'll explain as we go."
--------------------------------------
My turn? Okay.
By this point, I was beginning to hate Daruma-san. Seriously. Have you ever tried to cross a distance of sixty feet while playing 'Red Light, Green Light'? It is not as easy as it looks. So far, I'd failed fifteen times, and while I was getting closer each time, Daruma-san was getting trickier. As Hiro had warned, he changed the rhythm every time, making predicting his turning around difficult. However, I did notice that his overall strategy changed with each tile I succeeded in crossing. On the last three attempts, he got me by blasting through the entire chant at high speed and spinning right back around. The thing that truly irked me was that each time, I reached the final tile. Don't you hate when that happens? It's like losing to the final boss in an old school video game and having to start over again.
After the latest failure, after the fox statue's laughter once again damaged my self-esteem, I heard a quiet conversation coming from the orb. My ears perking up, I listened in.
The first voice was definitely Hiro's. "So, yeah, I was sent an alpha build a few hours ago. I'd checked out the company that was supposed to have sent it. They seemed legit, but..."
Another voice, nerdy (Yes, I know a nerd when I hear one) and yet definitely feminine, said, "It could have been a dummy site, set up for the sole purpose of deceiving you. Or perhaps an enchantment was placed on your computer, so that when you tried to access their website or you sent them an email, a projection of what they wanted you to see was automatically displayed on your screen. I can do a few tests, and find out which."
Hiro's response was hesitant as he admitted, "While that might be good to know, what I really need to know more about is the 'game' itself. I'm pretty much positive it opened a window to another world on my computer. I... think it might be better to show you, than explain it."
"Fair enough," the nerdy girl said, then added, "But, um, I don't know how much help I'll be. My expertise is on interactions between magic and currently existing technology. I mean, if you wanted me to cut the connection...?"
The split second of terror I felt at that casual statement was profound. Cut off the connection? That would leave me stranded, alone...
Hiro's response was immediate, and left no room for argument. "Absolutely not!" There was a pause, then he added, "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. It's just... it'll be hard to explain. I'll show you, and then you'll understand."
There was a pause, then Hiro's voice, much clearer, asked, "How's it going, Liz?"
Giving a frown at the orb, I admitted, "Not as good as I'd hoped. I keep getting caught at the last tile. Any advice?"
He hmmm'ed, then said, "Well, this thing is more or less a kind of robot or other automated system. Has it changed its strategy every time you cross a tile?"
Nodding, I admitted, "Yes. It gets faster when it decides to speed the chant up, and the last few times, it has caught me by turning, saying the entire chant very quickly, then turning right back around. It's... too fast for me to stop myself."
"Then try not moving." That was from the female voice.
Curious, I asked, "And that would be...?"
"Ah, sorry, I forgot how sensitive this mic can be," Hiro said, seeming to be talking to the other person. "That was Agent Mouse. She's an... expert of sorts in the kind of connection that's going on between you and I."
Deciding to have a little fun with Hiro, I said, "Oh, well, if you were having trouble with that, you should have told me. I'm not one for playing hard-to-get, stud. It's not complicated: All you really need is a bottle of wine, a dozen long-stemmed roses, some candles, and maybe a little romantic poetry, and I'm all yours."
There was a moment of what I assumed was stunned silence, followed by the sound of Hiro laughing. I'm fairly certain I heard the girl titter a little as well. After a few seconds, Hiro said, "Thanks, Liz. I needed that... and I'll keep that in mind for later." I blushed a little bit at that, before Hiro continued, "But, back to the topic at hand. I think Mouse had the right idea: The statue may be able to change things up, but I don't believe it can truly think. It has to have, if not a preset pattern, then a limited number of variations on the way it will say the chant. If you sit still and wait patiently on the last tile, you should be able to work it out, and learn when to move, and when to just sit and wait. These... games were meant to be solved, I think. Its just a matter of figuring out the solution."
Nodding, I said, "Right. Makes sense. I'll try that. Thanks." Moving back to the starting tile, I prepared to start again.
I heard a ringing sound, what I later learned was a doorbell, and Hiro said, "That's probably the others. Liz, I need to take off again. I'll leave you here with Miss Mouse for a little bit." I thought I heard a whispered objection from Mouse. After a moment, I heard Hiro whisper, "Just keep her company for a bit. She's been alone for a while now, and we're the first people she's been able to talk in weeks. I won't be long."