LevelUP: an 8-bit novel by Micah Joel. Author's definitive online edition.

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Chapter Seven

0-7: Public Library: LevelUP Corporate Media Center (Open to all registered citizens and H6-B refugees in good standing)

The library building is dark but for a single lit window, and the dimly lit sign out front, which carefully and specifically delineates all who are allowed to enter.

Max dismounts, ties his horse to the bike rack turned hitching post, and rubs his aching backside. For something that’s been part of his life so long, horse riding is still pretty awful.

The door’s locked, of course, so Max pounds on the window with his fists, yielding no results beyond bruised knuckles.

“You have to get his attention,” Molly says. She picks up a stone from the courtyard and bangs it against the window, making a sharp crack that echoes off the brick walls on either side of them. Max is surprised that the window remains unmarked.

A man, perhaps in his eighties, comes rushing from within, hands clapped against his head. “I say for the last time, come back when we’re open!” he calls out. He hesitates and peers more closely through the glass. Then he produces a key and unlocks the door.

“Miyamoto,” Molly says, and he smiles and waves them in.

“Welcome…Molly Matheson.” A pleasant chime. “Welcome…Max Root.” Another pleasant chime. They’ve been made by the standard-issue LevelUP scanner. At least the lack of buzzing alarm noises indicates that they’re still in “good standing” with the Visa administration, a government initiative in which LevelUP has their hooks firmly embedded. Once someone reviews the early morning logs from this scanner, that’s sure to change.

“Don’t worry about that,” Miyamoto says, as if reading Max’s mind. “I have a bit of a special arrangement regarding the data feed back to the corporate overlords.” He turns to Molly. “Molly Matheson, what brings you to these parts, and at this auspicious hour?” He ushers them in.

Just inside the entrance sits a row of crumbling chipboard cabinets—antique mass-merchandise furniture dating to the early 80s—lined with row after row of index-card-sized drawers. The smell of old paper fills Max’s nostrils, and with it, the memory of old things. Though this is a library, Max can’t see a single computer in the whole place—except, of course, for the LevelUP scanner near the entrance. The librarians’ desk is lined with nothing more than neatly-ordered stacks of paper.

“Something to show you, of the hardware persuasion,” Molly says.

Miyamoto smiles. “This way.” He leads them into his private office, the one they saw lit from outside.

Molly turns the backpack to Max, and he removes the NES. Miyamoto whistles. “My kids once had one of those. So long ago…” He examines the connectors on the back. “Does it work?”

Max shrugs. “We need to find out.”

“You’ll need a television from that era. Which fortunately we have. Please wait.”

He leaves and returns minutes later struggling to push a rattling cart, upon which an analog television set is securely bungeed. The thing is huge, even bigger than Nolan’s monitor, and it extends as far backward as it is wide.

Moving to a desk drawer, Miyamoto digs through piles of tangled junk until he locates a colorful cable with the right connectors. He tosses it and Molly catches it mid-air. Her one hand has more dexterity than both of Max’s put together.

Molly plugs in the final connector and reaches for the power button.

“Wait!” Molly says. “You forgot something.” From her backpack she pulls a controller, with its non-symmetrical connector and plugs it in. “Now, you can turn it on.”

“I wonder what games it comes loaded with,” Max says. He hits the power button.

The whole room seems to flicker. Max rubs his eyes. He must have gotten dust in them or something. The curved glass screen slowly alternates between solid black and solid white.

At the lower right of Max’s field of view there’s a horizontal white line. It seems to hover in space, even when he moves his head. It’s just there, slowly blinking. Like the cursor on Nolan’s DOS prompt.

Max blinks furiously but the artifact doesn’t diminish. Max startles as the cursor leaps into motion, as if controlled by someone typing. It leaves blocky pixelated words in its wake:

INSERT CARTRIDGE TO CONTINUE

“Cartridge?” Max asks.

“Ah, yes, these systems don’t come with software pre-loaded. You need to provide it separately.”

Molly looks up from her game, quickly tucking it away.

Miyamoto demonstrates that the NES has a little door that swings up. There’s a space inside for the cartridge. A space the exact size and shape as…

The memory strikes hard and without warning.

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Copyright 2018, 2019 Micah Joel. All rights reserved.