Cure for the Common Universe (14 page)

Aurora collected the rails they'd built so far and carried them out the door.

Meeki followed, grudgingly.

“Don't come help,” she said, pushing past me. “We'll let you know when we're ready.”

I stood there holding the fan, feeling raw and mad and stupid.

Soup appeared in the doorway. “We can go make them snacks in the Feed while they build it!”

“Uh . . .” I looked at Fezzik, who had picked up the ball and was setting it back on the pillow. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later Aurora and Meeki had built a plastic cup tunnel from the hallway to the Hub and directly over the Box of Fate. The Cheefs saw the partial tunnel and looked at us like we were crazy. Word got around to the Sefiroths, and everyone gathered to see what magic we were working.

Then I stepped through the doorway, heroically striding through slanted pillars of frosted light, cradling the purple orb on a cushion of air. I felt the Master Cheefs' glare as I tipped
the fan so that the ball slid into the tunnel . . . and
zzzzzzzzzt
plunked into the shoebox.

“Fuuuuuuurrrrrrryyyyyyyyy Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurds!” Fezzik called.

I high-fived Soup and Aurora. Meeki kept her arms folded.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Admit it was a good idea. We got there
way
before everyone else. And we got all the points!” I dropped my hand. “Or most of them. You know, because you unplugged our fan.”

Meeki gave me a flat smile. “Maybe you should take all of my points, since you came up with the idea without us.”

“What? No,” I said. “No.”

But I was kind of hoping that Fezzik would overhear and say that was okay.

The Burds returned to the Nest in silence, which was stupid because we had totally kicked everyone's ass. Fezzik was quiet because he didn't like the way I'd helped our guild win, Soup because he was exhausted, Meeki because she was an asshole, and Aurora because she was just a quiet person—I think. Whatever. I was used to people not liking me. I didn't need any of them. When I won, I'd have Gravity.

In the Nest, Fezzik called, “Plus two hundred and forty-five thousand to intelligence!”

It didn't quite have the same ring as two fifty.
Thanks a lot, Meeki.

“Congratulations, Miles,” Fezzik said, without that old crackling warmth. “You're a second tier.”

He stamped my scroll, and I could practically feel golden fireworks streaming off me.

“Damn! Ass! Hell! Shit!”

It took a second for me to recognize Soup's voice.

“Uh, Soup?” I said.

“Bastard! Anus! Blow job!”

“Anytime he earns a lot of points,” Aurora said, “he says every bad word he knows. It's sweet.”

I stared at Soup in shock as he rattled off some pretty nasty phrases that he must have learned from his stepbrother. Fezzik sighed and wrote a tick mark for each one. “It would be hypocritical of me not to take the points away,” he said.

Soon Soup's swearing slowed to a trickle. “Um . . . diarrhea . . . stupid . . . taint . . . dog diarrhea . . . dog taint . . .”

C
ongratulations on a successful quest, adventurers!” Fezzik said in guild therapy.

The window blinds were open, and light off the dunes painted us all in gold.

“Of course, it isn't about winning the contest. It's about the fact that you found a way to work together as a guild. Although, heh, I think some of our heroes could use a balancing patch.”

I knew he was talking about me. I didn't care. We'd won.

“I'm not going to award any additional points for guild therapy today,” Fezzik said, “because I really want you guys to focus on how you're feeling and not on getting out of here.”

Well, screw this then. I studied my fingernails. I'd definitely need to clip them before Thursday.

“Yesterday,” Fezzik said, “adventurer Miles told us an exciting tale about the young lady Gravity.”

Great. Now I had to pay attention.

“I was thinking about Miles's conundrum. We've all had our romances, our Aerises, only to watch her stabbed through the back by Sephiroth at the end of the first disc. I know you all know what I'm talking about.”

Aurora nodded.

“It's pronounced ‘Aerith,' ” Meeki said.

“Apologies,” Fezzik said. “There are new studies that claim that the cause of addiction is loneliness.”

I glanced around the circle. No one was looking at the guild leader.

“Herodotus said that games were created so people wouldn't think about hunger. Perhaps video games were created to eliminate loneliness. They provide a reliable feeling you can return to again and again. They generate predictable relationships, dependable teams, and satisfying conclusions that are difficult to find in the real world. But these cozy digitally generated feelings can make us neglect our real relationships, isolating us even more. Today I want to ask you guys, what makes you feel lonely?”

Meeki's leg jittered. Aurora scratched her jeans. Soup's tongue kept escaping his mouth.

“Come on, Fury Burds,” he said. “How am I supposed to cast Curaga if you don't show me where it hurts?”

The only response was Zxzord's snoozing.

Fezzik sighed. “Soup, let's start with you.”

Soup kicked his feet under his chair. “I get lonely when I think about having to go home.”

I glanced at the clock. It was a quarter after loon, Tuesday evening. I needed to be earning points, not listening to the problems of a kid with severe ADD.

While Soup opened up about home and his stepbrother, I did some more point juggling in my head. Now that I knew my average PPD, I redid my calculations. . . . Shit. Even with all of my classes and a gold medal in the kart race the next day and the paintball tournament on Thursday, I was going to fall about 8,000 short. That was a serious point gap. How could I make it up? G-man wouldn't let me go if I fell even a little bit short.

That was when I remembered Soup's cross-stitching. I started listening.

“You have a pretty vibrant community here, don't you?” Fezzik asked Soup. “That won't be easy to leave behind.”

Soup exaggeratedly shook his head.

Fezzik patted his little shoulder. “Do you think the skills you learn here will make you feel more confident to get out in the world and meet more kids?”

“They all don't like me,” Soup said. “They stay inside their houses when I come around.”

For a split second I felt kinda bad for the kid. It was easy to forget that not everyone had a Gravity waiting for them once they got out of rehab. Some players would return to a friendless neighborhood. Others would return to slightly abusive boyfriends. Others would return to . . . heroin, I guessed.

“You've been an excellent guild member,” Fezzik told
Soup. “I've seen you get better at painting and learn how to respect other people's boundaries.”

Ugh. He used to be worse?

“I think when it's time for you to venture back into the real world, you'll be much better equipped at finding some buddies to play with.” Fezzik turned to us. “Don't you guys agree?”

Meeki and I caught each other's eyes and for the first time didn't scowl at each other. We'd both said terrible things to Soup that day. We immediately looked away.

“You'll make lots and lots of friends,” Aurora said, patting Soup's back.

“I don't want to,” Soup said. “I just want you guys.”

Meeki shuddered audibly. I suppressed mine.

Fezzik gave Meeki a look, then focused back on Soup. “Do you think you can keep point dodging and stay at Video Horizons forever?”

Soup pouted out his lip. “No.”

“You spend a lot of energy helping out others instead of earning points for yourself. Do you think it's the only way to get them to like you?”

No. Shit. Let's not explore that. Why make him second-guess it?

Fortunately, Soup didn't respond.

“Okay,” Fezzik said. “That's enough for now. Meeki! You've been here more than a week. We haven't heard enough from you. What makes you lonely?”

“I don't get lonely. I have Nutella. And a vibrator.”

Blech. I did not want to picture Meeki as anything but clothed and far, far away from me.

Fezzik's face turned bright red, and he made his Wookiee sound. “Heh-heh. O . . .
kay
. Do you think sugar and—
hmm-mm
—physical stimulation are enough to lead a healthy, fulfilling life?”

“If you'd ever tried both at once, you'd know.”

“Miles!” Fezzik said, unable to change the subject quickly enough. “What makes you feel lonely?”

Airports.

“Nothing.”

“You want to see this girl on Thursday night,” he continued. “Do you think she'll improve your life?”

“Um . . .” I had a flash of Gravity, sexily dripping at the car wash. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just . . . know.”

I folded my arms. I suddenly felt very vulnerable, like Fezzik had a pickaxe and was mining straight to the center of my chest.

He did not let up.

“You've made a lot of progress over the last couple of days. You might be getting out of here sooner than any player ever has. Of course, you'll just be going home. Do you ever feel lonely there?”

I thought of the sound of Casey having a CrossFit in the living room. I thought of my dad's presence in all things, from
the polished knives gleaming on the magnetic strip to the dustless blinds. I thought of my shoulders tensing every time my bedroom door opened. . . . And then I remembered my bedroom. My sanctuary. Stripped. For the first time, I realized that the Wight Knights wouldn't be waiting for me when I got home. Now that my computer was gone, they might not have a reason to talk to me ever again.

“Home's fine,” I said, sniffing.

Meeki scoffed. “Yeah, 'cause you get to save imaginary princesses all day.”

“You know,” Fezzik said, stroking his chin, “you and Meeki remind me a lot of each other. It's like she's your Dark Link. Or, sorry, that's racist. You're each other's Dark Link. . . . Okay, okay, enough with the glares. You guys are going to set me on fire. Heh-heh.”

Meeki and I were too appalled to even look at each other.

“Aurora!” Fezzik said. “You've opened up about many things these past few weeks. Your eating. The obsessions that hurt your fingers. But we haven't quite gotten to the root of it. And now you're almost a fourth tier.”

Beneath her white hair, Aurora's eyes were closed, like she was astral projecting or something. “Can I talk about it in narwhal?”

“That sounds interesting,” Fezzik said. “But no.”

Aurora took a long moment, and then with a deep breath tucked her hair behind both ears in a single motion.

“I'm serving someone else's sentence,” she said. “Max,
um, my boyfriend, loves playing
Arcadia
. He never wanted me to play with him because he didn't want his friends thinking he was a . . . pussy for playing with his girlfriend who sucks at games.”

Fezzik didn't deduct points for her using the
p
word. He only listened.

I shifted in my seat. I'd said something similar to one of the Wight Knights about his girlfriend once.

Okay, I'd said the exact same thing.

“Max started ignoring me,” Aurora said. “I'd come over to his house, and he wouldn't even look at me when I came into his room. Just say, ‘Hey, babe.' Or ‘In the middle of a game.' After a while he didn't even bother with those anymore.” She picked at her fingers. “He was a lot different when we first went out. He bought me flowers and took me to dinner, and was happy with snuggling up with me all night, talking. I thought those days might come back. So I read fantasy books on his bed while he played games. And I waited.”

For the first time in guild therapy, I was really paying attention. What the hell was Max's problem? Why would anyone want to play video games all day if they had a girlfriend? I would never do that.

“It got worse,” Aurora said. Her hair slowly found its way back over her face. “One time I walked all the way to his house, but he didn't answer his door. I knew he could get distracted when he started playing, so I sat on his lawn and kept calling him and texting him.”

Airports flashed through my head. I bent forward, holding my stomach.

“It was cold out,” Aurora continued, “so I tried all his windows, and finally slipped in through the kitchen. I went into his room. . . . He didn't even look up. I asked if he'd gotten my calls, and he said no, even though his phone was sitting right next to his keyboard. He seemed really tense, so I went up to rub his shoulders, and his character just happened to die right then.” Aurora pulled her right leg into her lap and held her foot. “He made a really mad sound and pushed back hard, and his chair rolled over my pinky toe. It hurt, but I tried not to show it. He said he was sorry and got me some ice and kissed my toe, but then said that it was kind of my fault for distracting him . . . and he went right back to playing.”