THE QUEST
Jason Pomerantz
Part 1
"Entrail Lad" Hal, on Long Island, exchanges instant messages with "Packed Heat" Mark, in Pennsylvania.
Entrail Lad: Man, that was awesome! Did you see how Ricky blew that guy’s head off, by the lava pit?
Packed Heat: I was too busy guarding the flag. Never take your eyes off the flag, dude! You’re a player, not a f--king spectator.
Entrail Lad: You think I can’t play and watch at the same time!
Packed Heat: Not if you don’t want a rocket up your ass!
Entrail Lad: How my gonna know what the other team’s doing if I don’t watch them?
Packed Heat: You just watch your man and your flag. Tune out everything else, like some f--king zen master! That’s how you stay in the zone.
Entrail Lad: The Death Zone!
Packed Heat: F--k right! Hey, listen man! Forget all that. I got news! Big news!
Entrail Lad: The operation was a success! You’re a girl now?
Packed Heat: That’s right honey! And I want you! Shithead! No listen… Before we played… I went to the Ego Software website. To see if they released the 6.702 patch.
Entrail Lad: Is it there?
Packed Heat: No but listen! It doesn’t matter! We don’t need no crapass patches for Death Zone 2 no more.
Entrail Lad: What are you talking about? The 6.702 patch is supposed to cut network lag by like 20% or something.
Packed Heat: Dude, it doesn’t matter! Death Zone 2 is history! On the Ego website, they said it!
Entrail Lad: Ohmigod! You’re f--king with me!
Packed Heat: No man it’s true! They’ve been keeping it secret. Didn’t want to say anything till it was done.
Enrail Lad: Jesus when?
Packed Heat: Next week, on Monday! They’re finally releasing Death Zone 3!
*
Hal sits in the kitchen talking with his mother, Liza.
“Mom,” he says, “I have to ask you for a favor… It’s really important.”
Liza puts down the book she has been reading and looks at him. “Sure, sweetie, what do you need?”
“You have to promise you’ll just agree… You won’t ask me any questions or anything, you’ll just do what I want, okay?”
“Sweetie, you know that’s not going to happen.”
“Damn it… I mean... Can’t you just make it easy for me?”
“Why are you so sure there’ll be a problem? Give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay.” Hal bites his lip. “I need to borrow seventy five dollars.”
Liza rests her hands on the table. “That’s a lot of money. What do you need seventy five dollars for?”
“See… this is what I figured would happen! I knew you’d give me the third degree! I think I’m the one who should get the benefit of the doubt. Just trust me that it’s important and let me borrow the money!”
“Sweetie, there’s no way in hell I’m giving you seventy five dollars unless you tell me what it’s for. I just won’t. In fact, I think I’d be a terrible mother if I did.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you fine... But I’m not giving you that much money without an explanation.”
“Fine! I’ll tell you what I want it for. Then you’ll say no and I’ll get mad and you’ll get mad back at me and we’ll have a big argument and everyone’ll be miserable!”
“It doesn’t have to be that way! You’re getting to be a young man. We can relate to each other like adults. Just tell me what you need the money for and I promise to really think about it. If it’s reasonable at all, I’ll lend it to you.”
Hal bites his lip. “Fine!” he says. He stares at his mother. “I need seventy five dollars to buy a copy of Death Zone 3. It’s the new version of my favorite computer game and it comes out on Monday.”
“Oh! Is that all? That’s easy! Absolutely not.”
*
“See!” Hal says. “I knew it! I knew you’d say no!”
“If you knew I’d say no, why did you ask? You know I hate that game!”
“But why! It’s my favorite thing to do in the whole world! And it doesn’t hurt anyone!”
“You run around shooting each other with machine guns!”
“They’re plasma cannons, not machine guns…”
“Whatever! It’s violent and it’s sick. You’re lucky I let you play the version you have, let alone lend you money to buy a new one.”
“But it’s just a game! It’s all make believe.”
“The line between fantasy and reality gets blurred all the time. Kids play games like that and then they shoot up their schools!”
“First you say you trust me, then you say you think I’m going to shoot up my school!”
Liza takes a deep breath. “I didn’t say you’d do that. I just said some kids do. And it’s against my principles to help support companies that peddle violent filth like that to kids.”
“So your principles are more important than my happiness!”
“They don’t contradict! It’s not good for you to spend so much time in front of that computer anyway. You should be outside more! You should make more friends! Believe me, you’d be a whole lot happier that way.”
“So you definitely won’t loan me the money?”
“Not for anything to do with that horrible game!”
Hal stands up. “This sucks. This whole thing sucks. This is just what I knew would happen. You won’t help me and you just want to tell me what to do. Well, you know what? Forget it! Forget I even asked… I’m going to my room!” He stomps out of the kitchen.
Liza stares after him. Then she shakes her head and picks up her book.
*
Rantz and Liza sit together on the couch in the living room.
“Um… You know,” Rantz says, “Hal complained to me about you…”
Liza sighs. “About that damn game?”
“He’s really upset. He asked me if I would lend him the money to buy the new version. I told him no… not unless you said it was okay. He didn’t like that at all.”
“I wish we were raising a family, like, two hundred years ago. They didn’t have to worry about their kids playing violent computer games…”
“I don’t think I’d want to live back then… What if I got a toothache?”
“I guess you’re right… For that matter, can you imagine going through labor?” She shakes her head. “Those natural childbirth nuts do it that way nowadays, on purpose.” She shudders. “Crackpots! I say, give me medication and lots of it!”
“I hate to admit it, but I think Hal might be right. We should lend him the cash. I trust him to pay it back.”
“It’s not that! I just don’t want our money being used to pay for that crap… ‘Death Zone’! Even the name’s disgusting. It’s all about running around gruesome dungeons trying to murder one another. It’s sick! And they market it to children!”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Didn’t you ever play Atari when you were a kid?”
“I played Ms. Pac Man nonstop for a couple of months… But Ms. Pac Man didn’t have a rocket launcher!”
“Can you imagine what would’ve happened to those ghosts if she did?”
“Even if she had one, she wouldn’t’ve used it. Ms. Pac Man was a non-violent feminist!”
“She certainly didn’t watch her figure… I wonder how many calories those dots had…”
“Maybe they were the low fat kind.”
“Look… the point is… what if Ms. Pac Man 2 came out and your parents wouldn’t let you buy it?”
“I didn’t say he couldn’t buy it. I just don’t want to loan him our money…”
“So… if he gets a job or something and pays for it himself? You won’t stop him?”
She sighs. “I suppose not…”
*
Rantz talks with Hal in the den. “So mom says you can buy the new version, as long as you use your own money to pay for it.”
Hal shakes his head. “Great, dad. Where am I supposed to get seventy five dollars?”
“You could get a job...”
“A job! I’m thirteen years old! What sort of job could I get? They won’t give me working papers for, like, three years.”
“Well, as a matter of fact... School’s closed next week and I happen to have a big filing project at my office... There’s a whole bunch of old spreadsheets from before I became Circulation Director. Five or six years worth. They’re all, sort of, just shoved in cartons... Every time I try to refer to one, to check some history, it’s a nightmare.”
“Old spreadsheets?”
“Yeah, circulation reports... You know, results from direct mail campaigns, renewal response rates, that sort of thing.”
“Your life’s just filled with excitement, isn’t it dad?”
“Listen, do you want that stupid game or not? I’m trying to help you out here.”
“All right, I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had Shari... my assistant... going through them all. But she bitches to me even more than you do, and this is setting her off full blast. And I don’t really blame her. She’s got other work to do and this filing’s eating up all her time... You come to my office and take care of it, I’ll have the company pay you seventy five dollars, off the books and tax free. I checked with my publisher, he said it’s okay. I’ll even do you a favor, pay your train fare. Should take, two, three days.”
“Could I stay in the city, hang out a little, after you head home?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Can’t blame a guy for dreaming.” He shrugs. “All right. Fine. For Death Zone 3, I’ll put up with a couple of days of idiotic drudgery.”
“It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll like magazine circulation. Maybe you’ll decide to follow in your dad’s footsteps.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Can’t blame a guy for dreaming.”
*
“Dad…” Hal flops his jacket in the corner of the office. “Have you looked at these people you work with?”
“What are you talking about?” Rantz boots his computer.
“You can see the geekyness dripping off them!”
“Well... it’s a magazine about comics and sci fi. What’d you expect?”
“But, they’re, like, extreme!”
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
“What if it’s contagious? What if I go home tonight and start talking about ‘who’s stronger Superman or the Hulk’, or some crap like that?”
“Come on, they’re actually nice people. Smart too. And they’re really not all that weird, once you get to know them.”
There is a knock at the door. Powell, the associate editor, steps into the office. “Um, hi…”
“Hey Powell,” Rantz says. “You remember my son Hal?”
“Oh, sure... Hey!”
“Hey,” Hal mumbles.
Powell looks around the office. “Have you seen my Hi Hi Puffy Amiyumi DVD’s? I just picked up the season one boxed set, but it vanished from my desk.”
Rantz shakes his head. “Sorry…”
Powell clenches his fists. “I bet Harry swiped it!” He steps back into the hallway.
Hal looks at his father. “Dad...”
“What?”
“That guy is an adult with a full time job, right? And he’s buying boxed sets of Hi Hi Puffy Amiyumi… You don’t think that’s, sort of, unusual?”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t. I guess I’ve gotten used to stuff like that.” Rantz bites his lower lip. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the geekyness is contagious.”
Hal shakes his head. “Is there anywhere I can get an inoculation?”
*
Shari Kern holds up a sheet of paper covered with numbers. “First you sort them by campaign date, which you can see here.” She points.
“Okay,” Hal says.
“Then, by keycode, which is printed here.” She moves her hand down a bit.
“What’s a keycode?”
“Every time we send junk mail to a list of names... We have to give the list a keycode, so when we get the orders in we know where they came from.”
Hal looks at one of the papers. “There’s, like, a thousand of them. You spend all day working with stuff like this?”
Shari shrugs. “Girl’s gotta eat.”
“Yeah, but, Jesus... This stuff... this is totally deadly. It’s just, like, a billion numbers. I’m getting a headache just being in the same room.”
“I don’t like it any better than you do! Your dad’s the one who wants it all cross-referenced and indexed and whatever.”
“Man, if I had to deal with this stuff all the time... I’d go Columbine on everyone so fast! Come in with an AK47 one day.”
“The thought’s occurred to me.”
Hal looks at her. “What’s your story? You in love with Mr. Spock or something?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone in this office is some sort of nerdy freak.”
“I just work here. Like I said, I gotta eat.”
“So, you’re not, like, wearing Wonder Woman panties or anything?”
Shari glares at him. “You want a black eye, you little punk?”
“Hey, I don’t mean anything, it’s cool. You’re the only one here who’s halfway normal.”
She points to the stack of papers. “Less talking, more filing, Buster Brown.”
*
Packed Heat: Dude! I’ve been playing for twelve hours straight!
Entrail Lad: Is it awesome?
Packed Heat: Oh man... You gotta get this, you gotta load it, you gotta play it!
Entrail Lad: No lettuce... Not yet.
Packed Heat: When’s payday?
Entrail Lad: Tomorrow. I should be finished with this filing crap for my dad by then.
Packed Heat: Man, you lucky little f--k! You’re hanging in the NYC!
Entrail Lad: Big shit. My dad locks me in this stupid office and keeps throwing papers filled with numbers at me! When we go out, he won’t let me two feet away from him.
Packed Heat: Weak. I’d be like, later pops, I’m gonna find me some of them big city babes, dawg!
Entrail Lad: F--k all that. What about Death Zone 3? Is the plasma cannon as cool as they say?
Packed Heat: Oh man, the cannon is sweet! Blows away the rocket launcher.
Entrail Lad: And the perimeter gun?
Packed Heat: As advertised. Sets off a circle of energy around you that spreads and takes, like, twenty seconds to dissipate. Anyone steps into it, they get fried like you were Colonel Sanders and they’re a f--king chicken finger.
Entrail Lad: Man, I gotta get this game!
Packed Heat: Don’t take too long, dude. The clan’s reforming next week. You want in, you log in. You don’t upgrade, you’re out.
Entrail Lad: I’ll be in. Shuffle a few more papers and the man’ll hand me the cash.
Packed Heat: I hope so. Fraggin’s not the same without you, bitch!
*
Rantz and Hal sit on the train.
“You did a good job,” Rantz says. “I’ll give you the cash as soon as we get home.”
“Sweet!” Hal grins. “Can you drive me to the mall tonight, to pick up the game?”
“You know the rules. Mom said you could buy it with your own money but that we couldn’t help at all. I think driving you to pick it up counts as helping.”
“Fine! I’ll just bicycle there tomorrow. Why does mom have to make it so hard?”
“Your mother’s a woman of strong convictions. That’s part of why I love her. But sometimes... Sometimes it’s a little tricky to maneuver around them. But it worked out okay in the end! You got a taste of the business world. Now you’ll understand what I do all day, a little better.”
“Yeah, well... no offense, dad, but I don’t see how you can spend your whole life staring at all those numbers. I would claw out my brain after a month!”
“No, it’s... You don’t understand... It’s different when the numbers mean something to you... Magazine circulation... it’s like a big puzzle... how do you get the subscribers you need without spending too much money? There are all these cool patterns, like different people expiring at different times and some people not paying their bills. Predicting it all... it’s actually a lot of fun. It’s like a giant game.”
Hal shakes his head. “Let me tell you a story… You know my clan? I mean, my team? The guys I play Death Zone with on-line? Usually, we play against other clans, same amount of guys as in our own, so it’s fair. But sometimes... The best players, the real top notch guys, at the top of the rankings... They put out these standing challenges to clans. They’ll match them single handedly, one dude against, like, five. So our clan, one time... we had a match against this guy... Kill Ravage... We all use handles like that, real violent... I’m Entrail Lad... It’s just, like, a kind of joke... So this guy, Kill Ravage, this guy is tough, he’s, like, the number three ranking player in the world. So... all five of us in my clan... we’re running around, trying to pick up ammo and weapons... and he keeps fragging us. We can’t even get a shot in, he’s so fast. Fifteen kills would win. So, the score is fourteen to zero, and we... we didn’t want to be humiliated, you know? We wanted to get at least one frag. But Kill Ravage was just... we couldn’t hit him. But I noticed... when he was out of ammo, he always ran to this one spot where he picked up new rockets... So I snuck over there, behind this corner near it, and I waited with my sniper rifle... And, after a while, just like I figured, I see him running toward me, and he don’t see me. So, I played it cool, you know? I just waited, like, till I saw the whites of his eyes. Then I fired! Bam! Head shot! I took him down. And... we still lost, but... we weren’t shut out, you know? I took down the third ranking player in the world! I think that was the greatest moment of my life. So... staring at numbers all day is a game?” Hal grins. “You can sell it, dad, but I ain’t buying!”
*
Hal bicycles to the T. S. Eliot Mall. He steps into a small store called “The Game Cottage”. The shelves are packed with colorful boxes. Several mounted TV’s display various electronic games. A little grey haired lady sits knitting behind the counter.
“Excuse me,” Hal asks her, “do you have a copy of Death Zone 3?”
The old woman smiles. “Of course, dear, it just came in yesterday. I hear it’s quite something too. My customers just can’t stop talking about that Perimeter Gun.” She points with her knitting needle. “You can find it in the PC section, sweetheart, against the far wall.”
Hal nods and walks to the rear of the store. He picks up a black box decorated only with a white skull and the roman numeral III. “Sweet,” he whispers. He brings it to the woman. “I’d like to buy this, please.”
“Certainly, honey. Have your mom or dad come to the counter, I’ll ring you right up.”
“No, I’m here alone. But I’ve got the money...” He pulls a roll of bills from his pocket.
“Oh dear. I’m afraid I can’t sell it to you yourself. You see, look at the back of the box.” She takes it, turns it over and points to a small logo in the lower left hand corner. “See that, dear? It’s the rating. It says ‘M’ for ‘mature’. That means I’m not allowed to sell it to anyone younger than seventeen.”
“What! But I’ve been playing Death Zone 2 since I was eleven!”
“Oh, I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? But if I break the rules, I could lose my license. None of the manufacturers would supply me. And then where would we be?”
“But I’ve been waiting for this to come out for, like, two years! And I’ve been working all week to get the money! I have to buy this game!”
“There, there, honey, no need to get so upset. I’ll tell you what... I’ll take this copy and hold it under the counter here. That way you don’t have to worry about it selling out. Then you just come back with your parents and have them pick it up for you.”
“But they’d never do it! My mom hates Death Zone! She says it’s too violent!”
The woman frowns. “Oh my. I run into that attitude, every now and then. Parents today... So unreasonable. They have no respect for their children’s maturity and independence.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry dear, but I can’t help you.” Her face brightens. “But I know what would make you feel better! How about a nice cup of tea?”
“What?”
She points outside the store with her needle. “There’s a Starbucks just on the other side of The Limited. They make a wonderful Chai!”
Part 2
Hal steps into the cafeteria of his Middle School. After a moment, Chuck Agnew walks up to him, holding a tray of food.
“What up?” Chuck says.
“Hey,” Hal answers.
“What’ve you got there, brown baggin’ it? Pity! Check out these baked beans, they are to die for!”
“Those things are ultra disgusting.”
Chuck shrugs. “Whatever.” He looks around. “Hey, check this out! Time for my favorite sport.” Hal follows him as he walks to a table near the back where a small boy sits alone, reading. The boy is very thin, his hair is greasy, and he wears thick glasses. Chuck sits down next to him. “Hey, Murray, buddy, how you doin’?”
The boy glares at him. “Get out of here, Agnew.”
“Hey, Hal, ever meet my buddy, Murray Rosen? What are you reading, Mur?” He grabs the book. “‘Babylon 5: Shadow War’. What the hell is Babylon 5, that’s some Star Trek wannabe, right?”
Murray tries to take back the book, but Chuck holds it out of his reach. “Are you, like, studying for some geek final exam? I could get you a deal on pocket protectors, if you want. I got an uncle...”
Murray swipes back the book. “Asshole,” he mutters. He stands up and walks away.
Hal sits down next to Chuck. “What are you messing with that kid for? He wasn’t doing anything to you.”
Chuck scoops some beans into his mouth. “Listen, you’re like a brother to me, you know? I’ll give you some advice. It’s all about playing the hierarchy, man.”
“The f--k does that mean?”
“You and me, we gotta know our limitations, right? We ain’t never gonna be on the top... But that’s okay, that’s not so bad. Just so long as we ain’t at the bottom, you know? And how do you stop from being at the bottom? You do what you need to, to make sure that niche is taken. That freak Murray Rosen, he was born at the bottom. I’m just doing my part to keep him there.”
Hal pulls a sandwich from his bag. “Man, Chuck, you are one evil f--k!”
Chuck grins. “Ah, flattery!”
*
Hal talks with Chuck in the Rantz family's home office.
“Awesome!” Hal says, peering at the computer monitor. “Kill Ravage is up to number four in the world standings for the new version of Death Zone!”
“The f--k do you care?” Chuck asks.
“Kill Ravage is my favorite player. I scored a frag off him once! It was him, all alone, against my entire clan. He beat us fifteen to one, but that one time, I took him down!”
“It’s just a stupid game. You should get out more, expand your horizons.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Hey, your mother’s hot! You think she’d do me?”
“Don’t be disgusting!”
“If you love this game so much, why don’t you just get the new version?”
“They won’t sell it to me. It’s got some stupid ‘Mature’ rating, so kids can’t buy it. And my parents hate violence, so they won’t help. My clan’s already started practicing, and I’m out, cause I can’t upgrade. It’s driving me out of my f--king mind!”
“Tough one, Junior... Fortunately for you, your buddy Chucky is here to help. Got a photo of your cute little head?”
“What do you want with that?”
“I’m gonna jerk off to it!”
“Go to hell! What are you talking about?”
“What you need, Junior, is a phony I. D. And I know just where to get one.”
“No way! You gotta be seventeen to buy a mature game. I can’t pass for seventeen!”
“Don’t you know how it works? The dudes at the stores... You may be a kid, but your cash is still green, right? They wanna sell you the shit. They just need to be able to tell anyone who’s watching that they checked. You flash the card, they won’t argue.”
“You could really get an I. D. for me?”
“I got a ten page report due on the Iroquois. Know how much I care about the Iroquois?”
“Um... Not at all?”
“Exactly correct! You write me that report, I’ll get you a card in no time.”
*
Hal and Chuck are in “The Game Cottage”, in the T. S. Eliot Mall. Hal looks at the grey haired old woman at the register. “No way is she gonna buy I’m seventeen!”
“What’s your head stuffed with... dog shit? I told you. Flash her the card, she’ll sell you the game! She just needs to say she proofed you, in case the Feds come busting in. Now that I got you the I. D., she’d sell you f--king cigarettes or porno if she had any!”
“I don’t think that lady’s got any porno...”
“Bet the wrinkled old bitch’s got a dildo size of a baseball bat, under the counter.”
“All I want is a copy of Death Zone 3...”
They hear a loud burst of laughter from the rear of the store, where a small boy is standing next to a rack of colorful books, holding one open and staring at it. He shakes his head and grins.
“Jesus!” Chuck says. “It’s Murray Rosen!” He runs to him. “Hey buddy! Your mommy let you out all by yourself? Ain’t you afraid the big kids’ll pick on you?”
“F--k off, Agnew!” Murray wears loose fitting, disheveled clothing. His hair is still greasy.
“What’re you wasting your time here, Murray? There’s a Victoria’s Secret, other side of the mall. You could get a sexy nightie to wear for your boy friend!”
“Asshole!”
Hal steps up to them. “Come on, Chuck, stop wasting time. Let’s pick up the game and get out of here!”
“Man! I’m just warming up!” He grins. “Hey, Murray, do me a favor, come by my house... I wanna make a stir fry, but I’m out of olive oil. Figure I can squeeze some from your hair!”
“Can’t you just leave me the f--k alone!” Murray closes the book he was reading and puts it back on the rack.
Hal watches and his eyes open wide. The book is “The Ultimate Strategy Guide to Death Zone 3.”
*
“No way!” Hal says. “You’re a Zoner!”
“The morons who wrote that book...” Murray pantomimes spitting on the floor. “They should all be arrested for fraud. They say to use the Perimeter Gun to defend against the Flak Cannon... Idiots! Everyone knows the Perimeter Gun is all flash. Totally useless in combat.”
“What are you talking about! All the dudes in my clan... they say the Perimeter Gun rocks!”
“Then all the dudes in your clan are a bunch of Nancys.”
“You little shit...”
Chuck holds his palms out. “Girls, girls... Don’t fight! Murray here is a card carrying member of the Ultra Geek Party. I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”
“F--k off, Agnew,” Murray says.
Hal shakes his head. “Forget this dweeb... Let’s just get the game.”
He grabs a copy of Death Zone 3 from a shelf and he and Chuck walk to the counter.
The old woman sitting there makes a “tsk tsk” noise with her tongue. “Now, son… You know I can’t sell this to you. It’s got an ‘M’ rating. That means you have to be seventeen to buy it.”
“I am seventeen.” Hal reaches into his pocket and pulls out an obviously phony driver’s license. “Um... I’ve got an I. D.”
“Well...” The woman takes the license and examines it. “You look a bit, young... but I suppose, since you have this, it’s all right.” She hands the card back to Hal and begins to ring up the game. Hal smiles and pulls out a roll of money.
Murray Rosen walks to the counter. “Hey!” he shouts. “You can’t sell that to him! He’s in my Middle School. That kid is fourteen, tops!”
The old woman considers for a moment. Several customers have turned to watch the scene. The woman looks at them. Then she shrugs. “I’m sorry, honey,” she says to Hal. “I can’t risk it.” She takes the game and rests it below the counter.
Hal and Chuck stare at Murray. Murray grins and runs out of the store.
*
Hal walks into the cafeteria. He scans the crowd and then spots Murray, seated alone, at a table by the far wall, reading. Hal runs up to him.
“You f--k!” he shouts. “I should kick the crap out of you!”
Murray puts down his book and looks at Hal. “Well, well,” he says. “It’s the little boy whose mommy won’t let him play with violent games!”
“Why the hell did you have to narc me at the store yesterday? What’s it to you if I get a copy of Death Zone 3?”
Murray shrugs. “You’re friends with that Agnew asshole, you’re shit in my book.”
“Yeah, well, then I got even more reason to break your teeth!”
“Oh, tough guy! You’re older than me, you’re taller than me, you outweigh me.” He stands up and takes off his glasses. “Here... a free shot at my face.”
Hal shakes his head. “You really are a piece of work.”
“I’ll tell you what...” Murray puts his glasses back on and sits down. “I’m a reasonable man. Your honor has been besmirched, you want satisfaction. Fine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll face you in the one arena that really counts. The Green Fields of Carnage!”
“You mean the Death Zone level?”
“That’s right. You do still have version two, don’t you? Or did your mommy make you erase it?”
“You want to face me in Death Zone? I’m in a clan! I practice every day! I’ll wipe the f--king floor with you!”
“Talk is cheap, asshole.”
“I took down Kill Ravage once! He’s the fourth ranked player in the world!”
Murray laughs. “Oh, well, if you got a lucky frag off Kill Ravage one time, you must be pretty tough... So are we on? Four o’clock. Log onto the Zone Central Server. I’ll be waiting for you. My screen name is... ‘Crusher’.”
“‘Crusher’! That’s the lamest handle I’ve ever heard!”
“What can I say, I don’t have much imagination. Are we on?”
Hal nods. “We’re on, you shit. Four. Green Fields of Carnage. Look for ‘Entrail Lad’!”
*
Hal sits at the computer in his family’s home office. Chuck stands behind him.
“I’m so loving this!” Chuck says. “A duel to the death with Murray Rosen, supergeek!”
“F--king loser narc’ed me...”
“And now you’re gonna spank him!” Chuck shivers. “Oh! I’m getting hot just thinking about it!”
“Shut up, shithead. Where is that freak?”
“How are you supposed to link up with him anyway?”
“Anyone who wants a Death Zone match just logs onto the Zone Central Server. We’re supposed to play on a level called The Green Fields of Carnage. I’m in the lobby for that now. I just gotta look for the punk’s handle. He calls himself ‘Crusher’. Have you ever heard anything so lame? You’re supposed to use something cool like ‘Entrail Lad’ or ‘Kill Ravage’.”
“It says ‘Crusher’ down there in the corner of the screen...”
“That’s the little shit!” Hal clicks the mouse and the screen soon changes to an image of a lush forest.
A line of text appears at the bottom that says “Message From Crusher: I’m ready if you are. Five frags to win.”
Hal grins and types “Message From Entrail Lad: Prepare to die, punk!” He points to a button labeled “Begin the Match”. A bell rings and the forest unfreezes. Hal grips the mouse with one hand and places his other over the keyboard. He moves his player in a circle, surveying the territory.
“Where’s Murray?” Chuck asks.
“The game spawns you at random areas. He could be anywhere. But my first priority is getting some weapons. I know where I am. There’s, like, a little stream near here where I can grab a rocket launcher.”
“You go, girl!”
Hal’s player runs through the thick foliage. Soon, a small clearing appears. A dangerous looking weapon floats in the air near a pool of shimmering water. Hal maneuvers over it and it disappears. “All right! Now to hunt me some geek.” He turns the player around. “Jesus!” he yells and his body lurches back in his chair. Standing directly in front of his player on the screen is the image of a very large space marine, carrying a futuristic laser cannon. The marine opens fire at point blank range and the monitor fills with a burst of light and blood. Hal’s player falls down dead.
*
“What the hell was that!” Chuck yells.
“Punk got a lucky shot… I’ll take him down now. Just gotta get another weapon.” Hal’s player pops back to life and he sets him running through a forest path. Suddenly the speakers fill with the whiz of a bullet. Hal’s player collapses in a bloody heap. “F--k!” he shouts. “Bastard must have a sniper rifle...”
Chuck begins to giggle.
“Shut up, asshole!” Hal’s player respawns and he begins to run. A moment later another bullet snaps by and he dies once more. “HEADSHOT!” the computer announces.
“What is that,” Chuck asks, “three zip? Little boy Murray is wiping his butt with you!”
“I said shut up!” Hal frantically runs his player over a floating laser cannon. “All right, now the little shit is toast.” He moves toward a large tree in the center of a small clearing. Murray’s player stands next to it, facing the other direction. “He’s waiting there to snipe me again... He doesn’t see me.” Hal slowly moves behind Murray’s large space marine. He moves the crosshairs of his laser directly over the back of the marine’s head. “Now you’re going down!” He presses the button on his mouse to fire. At the same instant the marine lurches to the side and spins around. He is holding a fearsome rocket launcher. Before Hal can react, the marine runs forward and fires point blank to the stomach. Hal’s player dies again.
Chuck laughs hysterically. “Oh boy! I’m gonna tell my grandchildren about this!”
Hal bites his lip. “I am not gonna get shut out by that f--k!” He pushes his player over another weapon and runs to the clearing. The space marine stands still, by the tree. Hal opens fire and the marine causally steps aside. “How is he moving so fast?” Hal yells. He fires again and, once more, the marine easily dodges. “Why isn’t he firing back?”
“He’s toying with you! That greasy haired freak is playing with you like he’s a cat and you’re f--king Minnie Mouse!”
The marine steps back and vanishes in the forest. A moment later, text appears at the bottom of the screen. “Message From Crusher:” it says. “Should we end this now, or do you want to dance some more?”
Hal bangs his fist and types. “Message From Entrail Lad: F--k you!”
More text appears. “Message From Crusher: Okay, this is getting boring anyway.” The speakers begin to roar and the space marine reappears, holding a gigantic chainsaw. The screen fills with splattering blood and Hal’s player falls down dead. “YOU HAVE LOST THE MATCH!” the computer announces.
*
Hal stares at the monitor as Chuck laughs hysterically.
“He owned you, boy!” Chuck says.
Hal shakes his head. “How did he do that? I couldn’t even get near him. Did you see the way he was dodging, like he wasn’t even trying? It was just like...”
“Little Murray Rosen bent you over and made you his bitch!”
“Message From Entrail Lad:” Hal types. “I want a rematch.”
After a moment, a line of text appears at the bottom of the screen. “Message From Crusher: Don’t waste my time. Maybe after you practice for a few thousand hours.”
“He’s ranking on you!” Chuck chortles. “You’re getting dissed by Murray the Loser!”
“F--king little shit!” Hal says.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Chuck wipes a tear from his eye. “I told you, it’s all about the hierarchy. Murray was at the bottom, right? But he beat you black and blue, so that means you take his place. Now you’re the lowest of the low.”
“Would you please just shut up, already?” Hal begins to type again. “Message From Entrail Lad: Come on, Murray. Give me another shot. One more match.”
“Message From Crusher: There’s no point. You’re not in my league.”
“Message From Entrail Lad: I just had an off game. My friend here was distracting me.”
“Message From Crusher: Sorry, I’m going off to find some real players. But, I’ll tell you something, so you don’t feel too bad.”
“What’s he talking about now?” Chuck asks.
“Message From Crusher: Crusher’s not my real handle. I just made that up for this match.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Hal says, after a moment. “I knew that dodging style looked familiar...”
“What’s going on?” Chuck stares at Hal. “What about his dodging style?”
“F--k...” Hal whispers.
“Message From Crusher: My usual handle is Kill Ravage.”
The computer beeps. “CRUSHER HAS LEFT THE SERVER.”
*
“So... our story so far,” Chuck says, in the voice of an announcer. “Our hero here...” he points to Hal, “has dedicated his very existence to a computer game called Death Zone 2. All he ever does is play and talk about it...”
“You know, Chuck,” Hal says, “why don’t you get the f--k out of here, just go home...”
“In fact, the high point of his entire life is when he once scored off of Kill Ravage, one of the titans of the game. This was during a match when said Kill Ravage single handedly took on our hero’s whole team, and said Kill Ravage beat them anyway, fifteen to one... But, still...”
“Seriously, go away, just leave me alone!”
“Now he discovers that the great Kill Ravage, has a secret identity - mild mannered Murray Rosen, loser, nerd, and all around asshole, the least popular kid in the whole school!”
Chuck pauses and looks at Hal.
“Are you finished, shithead?” Hal asks. “Are you done now?”
“No, wait, I’ve gotta get to the teaser for the next episode...”
“What?”
“Hold on, let me think... Okay, ready?”
Hal shakes his head and covers his face with his hands.
“How will our hero react?” Chuck asks. “Will he give up the game he loves so much? Will he run away from home in distress, and become a five dollars a blow job crack whore?”
“Do you have any friends? I mean, seriously, is there one person in the whole world who doesn’t think you’re an annoying prick?”
“Or will he play on, vowing to increase his skill until he is worthy to challenge once again his man god, the mighty Kill Ravage, a. k. a., Murray the greasy haired doofus?”
Hal stands up and pushes Chuck toward the door. “All right, that’s it. Get out of here right now or I’ll break your f--king face!”
“Only time will tell!” Chuck says, as he steps out of the room. “Tune in tomorrow for another exciting episode of... Pathetic Losers and Their Stupid Problems!”
*
Hal steps into the lunch room. Seated alone, reading at a table by a far wall, is Murray Rosen. Hal stares at him. Then he walks to the opposite side of the cafeteria and sits down. He begins to unpack his lunch.
He pulls a salami sandwich from a brown bag. It is tightly sealed in thick plastic wrap.
As he begins to unpeel it, he looks across the room. After a few moments, he shoves the sandwich back into the bag and stands up.
He walks to Murray’s table and sits down next to him.
“Hey,” he says.
Murray glances at him. Then he turns back to his magazine. “Hey,” he mumbles.
Hal pulls his sandwich from his bag again and continues unwrapping it. “So... Kill Ravage...”
Murray shrugs and turns a page, revealing a large illustration of Spiderman.
“Um...,” Hal continues. “That was, um, something yesterday... I couldn’t even get near you.”
“You were wide open the whole time. I could’ve finished you in, like, five seconds, if I felt like it.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me you were Kill Ravage? Why’d you have to make me feel like such an idiot?”
Murray shrugs again. “Figure you’re used to it...”
“Jesus, you just don’t quit! I’m trying to be friendly here.”
“I don’t need friendship from douche bag lamers.”
Hal shakes his head. “You know, when I first saw Chuckie and those other guys ranking on you... I felt bad. But you deserve all of it. You’re not just a dork, you’re an asshole!”
“Maybe... But you could play Death Zone every second of your life from now till when you’re in a nursing home and you’ll still never be half as good as me!”
Once again, Hal shoves his sandwich back into his bag. “Yeah, well... Death Zone’s just a game. If I gotta turn into a sad little greaseball loser like you to win at it... well, screw that.”
Murray watches as Hal stands up and walks away. Then he bites his lip and turns back to the magazine.