A Chicagoan in Phoenix

by Split Scimitar

The Code of Shimmer

“Well Max, thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Glad you did. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“We can go around town I guess. We still have a month until spring training, so going to a game would be out of the question. If you wanted to do something outdoorsy, we could climb Camelback, or…”

“You want to head to your place or mine and we can talk about it?”

“Let’s go to yours. I can see where you live.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Look, we just went on our first date. I’m not that easy.” She responds faux-flirtatiously.

“Fair enough.”

I pull up next to her so she knows who to follow. When we roll into my house, I let her park in the garage, but she declines and instead remains in the driveway. When she follows me into the garage though, she seems to take offense to my car.

“You named your car ‘she demon’?” She asks indignantly pointing at the license plate.

“Yeah. She’s mighty purdy tho.” I say imitating Applejack.

“Ugh.”

“I’m sorry. Should I have brought something else?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just… that was a nickname of mine. A pejorative one, obviously.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Like I said,” she responds semi-defensively, “you wouldn’t have known. Besides, I don’t have a problem with the car. It just put me back in that headspace.“

“Well, if it bothers you, I’ll rent a car.”

“No! That’s not necessary. Since I’m looking at it right now though, I do have an idea for Sunday.”

“Let’s discuss it inside.”

Closing the garage behind us, I grab a glass and pour myself some water.

“Can I interest you in some filtered tap water?”

“No thanks.”

“So, what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

“Oh. Um, what do you want to do specifically? You feeling outdoorsy? Watch a movie?”

“I’m not much of an outdoorsy person, though I am dressed for it, minus the boots. Though I always hike in trainers.”

“You should probably consider a pair of hiking boots.”

“I have three pairs, but I haven’t broken them in yet, so they’re still uncomfortable. I would’ve brought a pair had I known.”

“Don’t worry about it. Though speaking of hike, there is something I would like to do with you.”

“And what would that be?”

“A day trip to the Grand Canyon.”

“I’m down. Will that influence what we do tomorrow?”

“If you want it to.”

“Most of the stuff I like to do here is eating. Like most cities I visit.”

“I can tell. Not a fan of tourist traps?”

“Some, but I’ve done most of them, and if I’m honest, it was a one and done thing.”

“Uh huh.” She replies raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry too much about that though. I’m an antisocialite. I’ll hole myself up at home for days on end. And since I live in an airport, I don’t get cabin fever.”

“Well, the least we can do is walk around downtown. I haven’t done that in a while.”

“That won’t take all day though. A couple hours at best.”

“Yeah, but we can take our time.”

“True.

“Let’s plan on doing that. Where should we meet?”

“I live less than 2 minutes away. Whoever’s ready first can head to the other’s house. We’re pretty close to downtown. It’s right on my line of what I consider walking distance.”

“I don’t mind a bit of walking.”

“Then it’s settled. First one up and running has to wake up the other.”

“You’re on.”

“Night Max.” Sunset says as she heads out the front door.

“Good night, Sunset.” I respond locking the door behind her.

---

Next morning, I’m up at about 7:10. Normally, I don’t have issues in the morning, but today? Maybe it’s the excess salt from last night’s dinner. The cheese they used must’ve been saltier than I thought. For someone like me, who suffers from high blood pressure and has an increased sensitivity to salt, this can create a rare but painful shy bowel situation.

“Ugh.” I say to myself as I give up on trying. “Hopefully walking in the city can kickstart the process.”

As I use the steam to wake myself up, I let my thoughts run wild (not like that) as I usually do as a sort of warmup for the day. Even though I like to think of myself as logical and calculating, I enjoy giving my brain workouts to try and get myself to think more on my feet. I like to think it works, but if you were to ask me, I still lack spontaneity.

Nevertheless, I’m dressed and ready for the day. Just as I walk out the front door, I’m greeted by a brisk morning temperature of 62, according to my phone. Nevertheless, just as I lock the door behind me, it hits me.

“Ouch.” I say just as I hear a golfer swing in the distance, followed by a faint “fore!”

I head back inside to see if a ball has made its way onto my property. One ball appears out of nowhere, bounces, then rolls further down the course, next to the cart path.

“Mornin’!” The unusually friendly golfer calls. “[Did] I hit ya?”

“No! All good. Nice shot though! Right next to the cart path!”

“Thanks!” He says as he putts carts over to it.

Back to the matter at hand. Sunset didn’t tell me where she lives, so I’m at her mercy. As such, I text her.

“You never told me where you lived, so I’m waiting for you.”

*Sunset is typing*

No response. No read receipt.

With that, I lounge on my sofa and check my social media feeds.

Some of the family are currently in Vegas, and are contemplating a move there. One post from the cousin I saw in Manhattan has multiple pictures of houses for sale. The caption is “Por Que no Las Todos?” (sic)

I crack a small smile, but on the inside, I can feel a hairline fracture form.

Knowing I probably shouldn’t leave a footprint, I don’t. Instead, I continue down my feeds and find another post, this one titled, “Viva Las Vegas? More like Viva in Las Vegas.”

“They’re gonna move to Vegas??” I ask myself.

I then scour the rest of their pages to corroborate it. Quickly however I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that they’re the first posts. If they do move, it’s fine. I’m more surprised than anything, but it just means that when I go there, I have to be careful of where I go, in case I run into them.

All that frantic searching totally distracts me from Sunset ringing the doorbell.

*ding-dong*

*Call from Sunset Shimmer*

Scrambling toward the front door, I answer the phone with only an “on the way” and hang up, opening the door on one foot trying to squeeze my foot into my shoes.

“Mornin’ Sunset.”

“Hey Max,” she responds with her hands on her hips.

“Ready?”

“Are you?” She asks pointing behind her. “Your tv is still on.”

“Oh. Let me turn that off.”

After taking care of that, I lock the door behind me, Sunset gets the directions, and with that, we walk to the heart of downtown, which is to say the area between the Suns Arena and Chase Field.

With no plan other than to just walk around, Sunset and I kind of let the music take us across downtown Phoenix, though staying in the area, most of the things we see are places to eat and a couple of little attractions that neither of us find that interesting, or things that we already know about.

Eventually though, we find ourselves at a bowling alley. Renting shoes and debating which weight I want to bowl with, Sunset follows suit and sets up the lane. To my surprise, she enters my name first.

“You’re up, Max.”

Giving it my all, I send the ball down with a backspin aiming for pin 2. When the ball grips the floor outside the greasing zone, the spin stops as the pins are impacted.

Pins 6 and 10 are the only ones at the end of turn 1, so after I fish my ball out, I spare out and sit down next to Sunset, who nods and says,

“Not bad.”

I only grin childishly as Sunset goes for her turn.

Nine down, leaving only pin 8. Knocked over with an easy chip shot.

“If that guttered, I would’ve been absolutely gutted.”

Sunset very much rolls her eyes at that one.

The back and forth banter continues on throughout the round.

---

Cut to the 10th frame, when I misplay my throw ever so slightly and send the ball right through the middle.

Sunset gasps and stifles a belly laugh.

“There’s no way you can get both of them.”

“Of course not. It’s a 7-10 split. Long Beach or Pasadena?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been to either of those places?”

“Just pick one.”

“Okay. Pasadena.”

“Not gonna matter.” I say as I aim for pin 10.

The oil is working against the ball. House grease is meant to carry the ball toward the middle!

“No!” I shout when the ball hits the backstop, having barely, by inches, JUST missed the 10th pin.

“It’s good!” She says before she cackles in mad laughter.

After she collects herself, she throws a strike, followed by another.

And another.

“Bang!“ She shouts as she turns away from the empty lane following the turkey. She then points at me and finishes with, “you suck.”

“Yeah? Well, you know, that’s just, like uh, your opinion, man.”

“One more game then?”

“Oh, it’s on!”

When we finish our last game, we head for lunch.

Even though I have some items on my list, I have Sunset choose, since she has dietary concerns.

“It’s okay Max. I’m willing to eat meat.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to make me choose. I also understand that your background isn’t exactly harmonious with meat.”

“I promise Max. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so…” I say as we walk back home. “The place I want to try is outside of downtown. We’ll have to drive over.”

“What place is that?”

“Honey Bear’s.”

“Can’t say I’ve been there before.”

“It’s a friend’s recommendation.”

“Oh. Well, it’ll be something new to try.”

“I hope so. Though I fear it may have been over-hyped.”

“We’ll see, right?”

“I guess. You drive or me?”

“You can. You know where we’re going.”

“I do. And there’s a location also within walking distance. Do you want to eat in house or at home, so to speak?”

“We can eat out. We can get Culver’s again.” She winks.

“At another location then? They’ll probably have a different flavor of the day.”

“Definitely.”

With that, we walk a few blocks to our dinner.

“Ooh, this is good.” Sunset says. “You friend has good taste.”

“I agree.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I ask after the question starts bothering me, “but how has your relationship with the others been? I only ask for curiosity’s sake, so feel free not to answer.”

“Well, what do you mean by ‘has been’?”

“I guess I should start with ‘how do you all stay in touch aside from the obvious communication of mobile?’ More accurately, ‘how often do you get together’?”

“Well, Twilight likes to try for once a month, but obviously not all of us can guarantee we can be there. In fact, Chicago was the first time we all got together since… who knows?”

“I’m glad I was the one that got you back together.“

“So am I. The nice thing is now that you’re available, any one of us can book you.”

“You don’t have to be slave to an airline’s schedule.”

“Exactly.”

Because I ordered a little too much, I take a little longer than Sunset to finish eating. Nevertheless, once I’m stuffed to the brim, we make our way back to my place.

That evening, Sunset asks if I want to watch something. I pass on the basis that anything I’m interested in she wouldn’t like, so she sells me instead with “wanna be my player two?”

“You game?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of my thing.”

“You have multiplayer games?”

“Yeah, let’s go! I think you deserve to know where I live.”

“You think we’re moving too fast?” I say more facetious than serious.

“I don’t think so. We’re just making up for lost time. Besides, I’m the oldest out of the girls. I’m a big girl. I can handle you.”

“If you’ve been able to for this long.” I say as I grab my things.

When we reach Sunset’s house, located literally 15 minutes walking from my house, I step in and take in the sight before me.

Xboxes, PlayStations, a Switch, and more, with plenty of controllers apiece.

“No wonder you’re selective about who you invite home. They’d never want to leave.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many guys that’s happened to.”

“I can imagine.”

Sunset combs through her game library and to my surprise, it’s rather diverse. Where I would expect her to specialize in something like an FPS or open-world/sandbox style, she has almost all of it.

“Knowing you, you’ll be disappointed to know that I only have one Motorsport game.”

“You actually have a Motorsport game?”

“Yeah. Ironically enough, the one car I have in my garage is a Fairlady.”

“JDM spec I assume? If you’re calling it a Fairlady.”

“Probably. What’s the difference between US and JDM spec anyway?”

“Not much performance-wise. Mostly some aesthetics to accommodate the different types of number plates. Maybe a few horsepower. And the fact that it says Fairlady instead of a number.”

“Got it. What do you wanna play first?”

“Well, I suck at all FPS and most sandbox games. Even Motorsport games I’ll get my ass handed to me.”

“Admittedly, the only reason I have any Motorsport games is so I could play with my ex-boyfriend Flash.”

“You dated a petrolhead?”

“Yeah, back in the day. We go way back. We’re still friends, but us dating just didn’t work out.”

“I feel ya. You still keep in touch?”

“Yeah. He comes by here every so often, or I go visit him in Vegas.”

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a musician. He does house gigs and live performances in downtown.”

“He’s off-strip then.”

“You could put it like that.” She smiles as we run over a game to play. “He wants to be a detective though.”

“Nice. Well, I don’t want to make a decision, but we can start simple.”

“What, you want to play Mario Kart?”

“I’m biased, and I also happen to be married to one of their more or less central figures. I would defer to Gran Turismo, Forza, or Need for Speed, something more… real-world, subjective as that may be since this is you I’m talking to.”

“Funny guy. Um, we can start with Gran Turismo then. I don’t have Forza or Need for Speed.”

“Eh, it’s okay. They’re all single-player anyway and both of those games’ driving mechanics are a bit too… arcade-ic for my tastes. Gran Turismo’s arguably the most real world, next to Project Cars, but I prefer the former.”

“Sounds like Flash chose wisely then.” She says as she boots up her PlayStation and inserts Gran Turismo. “I’ll let you be player 1 for this. You probably will beat me at this game.”

“You wanna know a secret? Soft racing tires. They allow you to brake later, corner faster, and are more forgiving if you spin out. The downside is they’re horrible for fuel consumption. That’s why they’re virtually unseen outside of a racetrack.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t think too much about it. The tires you have even on your Fairlady are sport tires, not racing tires.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You want to race the slowest available car in the game?”

“Hell yeah!”

The two slowest cars in game? The original Volkswagen Beetle, and the Volkswagen Samba Bus. Guess which one Sunset wants to race? Fillmore.

So, onto a track.

“We have to go somewhere with lots of changes in elevation. With a car like this, it’ll be fun to watch the thing slowly lose steam until eventually you crawl up in first gear.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna win easily.”

“I don’t know. A one-make race isn’t really even about driving skill anymore. The secret to winning a one-make race is consistency and endurance. One-makes are literal insanity because they are the exception to the rule of the dictionary definition. You can do the same thing and expect a different result each time. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but trust me on this.”

“Alright…”

Stock tires, no modifications, and no driver aids except for ABS. Sunset chooses automatic shifting, I of course choose manual.

Start!

---

After 3 races, we call the game quits and move on to other games that Sunset absolutely dominates me in. Call of Duty for example.

“You know,” I say as she kills me for the umpteenth time, “the last time I played any CoD game, it was ‘naked gun game.’”

“Uh, what kind of friends did you have in college?”

“Ones who knew how to take advantage of a geeky noob who never wore more than one layer. Basically, after every round, the lowest scorer would remove a piece of clothing, then once fully naked, had to walk up and down their hall. Bonus, if they had a final score of zero, or were the last kill, they removed two articles at the end of the round.”

“Please don’t suggest that. Ever.”

“No way. I played once. Never again. Besides, if it’s just you and me, you’d remain fully clothed and I’d be streaking multiple times over.”

*BOOM! Killed again!*

“That’s for suggesting it.”

*Killed by ShimmerCode*

“That’s for subjecting me to whatever brutal description of that horrendous game I could’ve gone my entire life without seeing.”

“Uh, technically, you’ve never actually, like, seen it.”

“That is literally the worst valley twang I’ve ever heard, and that’s saying something, seeing as you’ve lived there pretty much your whole life.”

“Minus the years I didn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Let’s see how you are online, since you’ve given me a little more than an ass-whooping.” I say as I put my controller down.

“You kicked mine on the track.”

“Oh alright then.”

As she signs in, she joins a public lobby and makes changes to her arsenal like clockwork. Donning a headset but flicking the mute mic button on, she jumps into combat.

Now, I’ve seen professionals go in with guns blazing, both in-game and IRL, mission dependent of course, but Sunset takes a rather unique approach to the game. Even in public lobbies, it’s obvious that Sunset utilizes the techniques and forms that she applies to her work.

Sunset knows how to get to her opponents in ways that affect them personally. Even though to her teammates (whose chatter I can hear through her headset), she’s “being a pain in the ass,” because she hardly uses guns. If you count the kills by knife compared to the kills by gun, she alone carries 99% of the match’s KDR, and she doesn’t even need a pistol.

After a full set of matches, she returns to the lobby and quits on account of “best I drop before too many get on to me.”

“A master at work. I’d recognize that same tact and on-the-fly calculations. You’re applying your knowledge of the brain to play to strategics. Weaknesses and strengths you can figure out almost instantaneously. I imagine you have to constantly adjust your factor of “young and dumb t[w]eenager,” which is why you tune into the chat but never speak.”

“You’re very astute. How did you figure that out in such a short timespan?”

“It’s not that hard to differentiate between a team strategy often used by professionals and a lone wolf who plays in a public match. Your strategy is one a lot of my friends emulated and some even championed, as they were homeschooled. I never got into the FPS genre as you oh so easily demonstrated, but I always was a sucker for strategy. It’s part of why I enjoy baseball so much. Most people see it as slow-paced, boring, and wissy, and it is. But… more than any other major sport, it’s a strategy game at heart. Think about it. Nowhere does the importance of strategy play a larger role both in and especially outside clutch situations than baseball. Sure, coming through in the clutch can come by strategy in almost any sport, but a lot of the time, especially in basketball and hockey, and by lesser extension football, it can boil down to luck. Clutch jumper, trick shot; hell, the Hail Mary, you see a lot of luck more than simply intellect. Sometimes, watching a well-placed bunt or base hit put the opponent in a checkmate situation is just perfect.”

“Fair point. I’m not much of a sports girl, but coming through in the clutch is still quite a strategic play. All sports are as you said a battle of strategy, but doesn’t luck come into play just as much as a good strategy even in a game as slow-paced as baseball?”

“You wouldn’t be wrong to assume so. My experiences are my own however. I see a game of chess as it were in baseball more than other sports, which at the risk of sounding shallow, may be because most athletes are focused on scoring rather than moving a pawn. Baseball affords more opportunities to use intellect rather than sheer athletic ability.”

“I can’t say I agree with you on everything you just said, but yes, the amount of brainpower in baseball combined with its utter lack of… continuous play (?) makes it intellectually stimulating. Even so, you can’t say a brainiac would enjoy baseball on that alone. All sports require intellect almost as much as athletic ability.”

“I’m not saying that it doesn’t. On the surface, baseball is more for the brain versus other sports that tend to ride on physicality. Basketball sells on the clutch jumpers, the broken ankles, the long threes, stuff that delivers a lot of luster. Soccer and hockey much the same. Trick shots, ball/puck handling, the ability to dodge opponents on the fly. Football: upset touchdowns, game-winners, a good on-field balance of run and pass game, and of course, the collisions. Maybe a little less so since the advent of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), but again, singular, concentrated events that are a lot of luster and in the case of some are enough to grab attention but only on the surface, if you can keep up with my switch between the surface and What Lies Beneath. It’s easy for me to love baseball ahead of the others for two reasons: 1. I’d much rather play than watch, to develop my own strategy in a practical application. 2. Because I enjoy brain-forward sports.”

“That’s not surprising. No wonder Twilight likes hanging out with you so much. You match her intellect and give her a run for her money.”

“I can say the same about you. Even if you’re not as knowledgeable when it comes to sports, you still understood pretty much everything I threw at you, and you know enough to pick up what I was putting down, even if I‘m being rather roundabout. You and Twilight are probably the only ones who could do that. And I love that about your group. You girls each have specialties that I can keep up with, and likewise you with me I like to believe. You and Twilight know how I tick, Rainbow Dash is a fellow aviator, Applejack keeps my inner “escape to the country” spirit alive, Pinkie Pie reminds me to not take life too seriously, Rarity can keep up with my inner Europhile and understands the power of the flame that made our passions professions; in other words, work is always play, and Fluttershy? She has a spirit of compassion that I envy.”

“Yeah. I get that. Being best friends with the other girls gives me that same feeling. They provide a facet or aspect of my life I wouldn’t get without them otherwise. If you had met us in college, we were all inseparable. I’m prepared to say that even though Rainbow and Fluttershy were the only ones who knew each other before we all met, if we as a group were in high school, we’d be almost… exclusive.”

“I doubt that. From what I can ascertain, you welcomed almost everybody you met.”

“Yeah, but having that group in high school definitely would’ve made our college experience a lot different. While I do wish we had met earlier in our lives – that is to say, high school – from time to time, I’m glad life worked out the way it did.”

“Yeah; and I’m really glad I met you all. I owe Rarity big time.”

“Oh please. If your little “holiday romance” was any indication, you’ve repaid her.”

“Are you still sworn to secrecy on that?”

“I guess.”

“I mean, I confronted her about it. I broke her and got her to spill how she feels. She’s still flirtatious with me, especially when we text, but I know she doesn’t really mean anything outside of just being friendly.”

“Yeah, about that…“

“Sunset, is there something being withheld from me?”

“Max, Rarity…”