Chapter One

Mr. Litwak's Thirty-Seventh Year of Business

At eight o'clock in the evening, on Monday, August 22nd, Mr. Litwak shut the doors of his arcade and turned the sign around so that anyone looking through the window would see the word Closed. Sighing, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. It wasn't that he'd had an overly strenuous day. The kids were usually fairly well behaved, and what few disputes arose tended to get settled quite easily. No, it was just that he wasn't the same energetic man at sixty that he had been at twenty three.

Thirty-seven years he realized. Come November, I'll have been in the business for thirty-seven years.

He stepped away from the wall, steadier now, and gazed about the now quiet arcade. He remembered when he had first purchased the building, back in 1979. A budding entrepreneur, he'd been fascinated by recent developments in computers and other electronic technologies. Not that he'd ever been the computer expert that his best friend Albert had been, but he'd been fascinated nonetheless. And of all the developments, it had been Pong that caught his eye the most strongly.

It had been over the Christmas Holidays when he and Albert had discovered it. They'd played it for hours, until the owners of the store where it was had to ask them to leave. Nonetheless, the euphoria of the experience stayed with them. Albert had become a video game developer as a result, while he, Stan Litwak, had chosen to open an arcade.

Naturally, the first game Mr. Litwak acquired was Pong. Others soon followed, from Space Invaders, to Asteroids, to Fix-It-Felix Jr. And every week, the customers always came. Day after day, they came, and Mr. Litwak reveled in the atmosphere around him, delighting in the presence of so many who shared his passion.

Certainly, there had been hiccups along the way. There was that time he'd had to unplug both Turbo Time and Road Blasters, for one. But by and large, operating the arcade had been a pleasure. It still was which didn't surprise him; age had slowed his movements but inside, he was still very much the kid who'd been shooed away from Pong.

What did surprise him was that the arcade was still flourishing. Since the end of the 1990s, the industry had been shrinking in the United States, as consoles flooded the market and stole customers away. Despite this, Litwak's Arcade still received its weekly glut of customers. Mr. Litwak wasn't sure why, but he wasn't about to complain about his good fortune.

He walked through the darkened arcade, eying the various games. He passed by Dance Dance Revolution, doing a quick shuffle. This prompted him to wince at the resulting pain in his joints, and he stopped.

Shaking his head at his own antics, he moved on past Sugar Rush. For a time, it had been the most popular game in the arcade, with the sudden discovery of the character Vanellope von Schweetz. He still didn't know why, two weeks after it'd been plugged in in the summer of 1997, it had stopped choosing her for the list of racers for the next fifteen years. After all, she was on the game's poster. But all of a sudden, she'd come back, and for the next six months or so, she'd been the most popular racer of all.

Then, there came the arguments. Vanellope's teleportation abilities were too great an advantage, some gamers insisted. It wasn't fair when anyone got to play her, since she usually always won. Eventually, players started implementing unofficial "No Vanellope" rules. Then the disputes died away as other games became more popular and the lines for Sugar Rush went back down to their normal levels.

Walking by Hero's Duty, Mr. Litwak smiled at the sheer absurdity of its storyline. Cybugs, the clichéd "spouse killed at the altar" scene, genetic experiments, the wooden dialogue... He smiled again. Yep, sure is a fun game.

"Hey Felix," he said, as he came to a stop beside Fix-It-Felix Jr. "Still working after all these years, are you? Great." He paused. "I still don't know how Q-Bert got into your game, but it sure was a nifty surprise."

Again, Mr. Litwak had to smile at his own child-like enthusiasm. Talking to my games.

But then, they were almost like old friends.

As he turned back towards the door, Mr. Litwak spotted Pong. He approached it slowly, almost with reverence. The game that started it all. The one that got me stuck where I am now.

He smiled fondly at the memories. He'd been positively giddy when he'd acquired the game for his newly opened arcade. It was almost a miracle that the thirty-seven year old machine was still running, but he was glad it did. He would miss Otis and Floyd when their game finally broke down.

Otis and Floyd- during that first session, in a moment of playfulness, he'd given these names to the paddles. When he finally purchased his own copy, he and Albert had started playing it again, reliving their shared memories. The names had come back to him then, and this time, they'd stuck.

"Take care of yourselves, boys," Mr. Litwak said, patting the side of the game. "I'll be back in the morning."

Slowly, he headed past the other games and towards the door. Once there, he paused.

The thirty-seventh anniversary of my arcade. I wish Albert were here to celebrate with me. I wonder what's become of him since he moved out to California? Haven't heard from him in- how many years? Ten? Maybe I should finally try this Facebook thing the kids keep talking about, see if he's on there.

With a sigh, Mr. Litwak exited the building and locked the doors. He walked down the sidewalk to his car, got in, and started the engine.

Back to the house, where I can get some dinner and relax. No kids, no wife…

He chuckled. Still an old bachelor. Nice job fighting the gamer stereotype, Stan.

The engine revved up and Mr. Litwak pulled out of the driveway.

I'll be back in the morning he told himself once more.

He wore a smile all the way home.