Cure for the Common Universe

by Christian McKay Heidicker

  “Eh?” I said to Fezzik.

  “I guess that’s not technically cheating,” he said.

  “Nope!” I said. “Ha!”

  “What do I do?” Soup asked.

  “I already explained it. You just uncoil the extension cords as I go and make sure I’ve got plenty of line.”

  “You’re smart, Miles,” Soup said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t you need your guildmates?” Fezzik asked.

  “Do you guys want to see us win?” I asked the glue crew.

  They didn’t respond.

  “Guess not,” I said to Fezzik.

  I stepped carefully out of the Nest, balancing the ball in midair, while Soup unraveled the extension cord behind me.

  “Don’t pull too hard,” I said, “or it will unplug.”

  “’Kay,” he said. I could hear his little teeth clacking together. “This is stressful.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  We carefully walked down the staircase, Fezzik following behind to make sure we didn’t touch the ball. At the base of the stairs, I looked left and right toward the two staircases at the far corners of the building. The Cheefs had made it out of their door and were quickly connecting toilet paper rolls from the recycling bin. It was a good idea, but it was taking them forever to tape them all together.

  The Hub’s door lay ahead.

  “We’re doing it!” Soup said.

  “Of course we are,” I said.

  Halfway to the Hub, the door at the far end of the hallway swung open, revealing the silhouette of the coach. The fan wavered in my hand, and I quickly balanced the ball while searching for an escape. He couldn’t catch me using his fan on anything other than the kid with the heroin addiction.

  “Soup, fast, open that door.”

  He opened what turned out to be the music room, and he, Fezzik, and I went inside. The Dust Fairy whirled around, quickly shutting a vent.

  “No class now,” he said, waving away smoke from his e-cigarette.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, peeking back down the hallway to see if the coach was gone. He was headed our way.

  “Miles,” Fezzik said. “What are we doing in here? The Hub is two doors down.”

  “No, yeah, I just . . .” I looked around frantically. “I left my schedule in here. Do you see it, Soup?”

  Soup searched while the Dust Fairy held the vent’s grate in place with one meaty hand. I stayed pressed against the wall, out of view of the door. The coach’s sneakers squeaked closer. As he passed the door, he snorted, almost as if to say he could smell me.

  “Not here,” Soup said.

  “Shucks,” I said. “Well, let’s keep going.”

  As Soup shut the door behind us, I got one last glance at the Dust Fairy’s ass crack as he bent back over the grate and took another drag of his e-cigarette.

  We continued down the hallway. I had taken a few steps through the Hub’s door when Soup yelled, “Miles, stop! Stop, stop, stop!”

  “What? What?”

  The orange cord was taut, pointing a straight line down the hallway.

  “God”—I glanced at Fezzik—“dangit, Soup. Did you get all the extension cords?”

  “Every single one!”

  “Ugh.” I stood in the hallway with the purple Ping-Pong ball floating only a few feet from the Box of Fate. “Maybe we could go set this down in the Nest and search for more cords.”

  “Why are you fighting using your guild’s help?” Fezzik asked.

  “I’m not,” I said. I guessed I could use some teamwork points. “Um, Soup, run back to the Nest and tell those guys we need their bridge. Tell them they don’t have to build it all the way from there. Just have them bring it here.”

  “Aye, aye!” he said, saluted me, and ran down the hall.

  “Unnecessary!” I called after him.

  Fezzik had his arms folded. “So, it looks like you need your guild after all.”

  “I wouldn’t if Soup had found more extension cords.”

  “That might be true—”

  Little feet came padding back down the hallway.

  Soup had to catch his little Soup breath. “They said . . . they’re not . . . coming.”

  “What? Why? Did you tell them how freaking close we are?”

  He nodded.

  “Do they want to win?”

  Soup shrugged.

  “Well, go ask them!”

  He ran back down the hallway.

  “And don’t come back without them!” I looked at Fezzik. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Every adventure party needs different kinds of skills—magic, stealth, brawn, healing.”

  The ball wobbled in the air, and I tried to keep the fan under it. My arms were getting tired.

  “You’re like the warrior,” Fezzik said. “You go in swinging and try to do as much damage to the enemy as you can.”

  I had the ball in air equilibrium now.

  “Meeki’s our warrior,” I reminded him. “I like to think of myself as more of a wizard who hangs back and figures out the problem and then swoops in to solve it.”

  Fezzik nodded. “If you are the wizard, how are you going to survive the heat of battle and get to your date with the princess if you don’t have a healer? Or a tank to take all of the hits? Or Soup to run around grabbing things for you?”

  Before I could answer, Soup came running back. “They wanna win. Just not this way.”

  “Seriously?” I held out the fan and the floating ball to him. “Hold this. Do not drop it.”

  Soup nodded, but it was a weary nod.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Stay here.”

  I headed back down the hallway with the fan and the ball, followed by Fezzik. I peeked down at the Cheefs, who were making unnerving progress down the hallway with their toilet rolls, and then took careful steps back up the staircase and into the Nest.

  “Guys! I’m, like, three feet from the box with this thing.”

  “It’s more like twelve,” Fezzik said.

  “Yeah, but we’re so close.”

  Meeki and Aurora kept their heads down.

  “Fine,” I said. “The bridge is a great idea, okay? We need it to get the rest of the way. See? That’s us working together. I brought it most of the way. Now you guys finish it off.”

  They didn’t move.

  “The Master Cheefs are getting close to winning! Come on!”

  Aurora’s eyes traveled from Meeki to me and back to Meeki again. “Levitation would help us win. And it is pretty.”

  “That’s not the point,” Meeki said.

  “Well, then what is the point?” I asked. “Do you like being trapped in V-hab? Do you enjoy not playing video games and doing whatever BS activities G-man comes up with? I seem to remember that someone said that this place was for four-year-olds, like, twenty minutes ago. Now you’re doing arts and crafts.”

  Meeki stood up.

  “Yes!” I said. “Thank you.”

  She walked over to the wall and unplugged the extension cord. The purple ball bounced off the fan and onto the floor.

  “What the fuck?” I said.

  Fezzik sighed. “Minus five thousand from the final prize and minus one thousand to you, Miles, for cursed tongue. Give me your scroll.”

  “It’s on my bunk,” I said, swallowing my rage. I turned to Meeki. “I’m trying to help!”

  “Help us lose five thousand points?” she asked.

  “But you’re the one who unplug—grrgglfrxshsssrrrrrrggggggg!” I said, or something like that.

  If I hadn’t desperately needed all of the points that probably would have been taken away by the coach, I would have smashed the fan onto the floor right then.

  Aurora dropped the spaghetti she was gluing, and stood up. “He’s right.”

  “No,” Meeki said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “We’re just being stubborn,” Aurora said. “The fan is faster. And I’m ready
to not be here anymore. I’m setting aside my ego and working with Miles.”

  “A thousand points to Aurora for teamwork!” Fezzik said.

  “Why don’t I get any points?” I asked. “I set my ego aside, like, five minutes ago and tried to work with these guys.”

  Fezzik chuckled uncomfortably. “I think you might need to think about why you finally decided to reach out to your guild.”

  I swallowed the thoughts that followed. My way would have worked if we had had enough extension cords. It wouldn’t have just worked; it would have blown the other guilds out of the water.

  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 . . .”

  Curaga

  Congratulations 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.

&nbs
p; “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.