Cure for the Common Universe (18 page)

“Why?” I said. “What's the point if I just lost the race and won't make it out of here in time to get to my date and will just get rejected by every other girl I meet?”

Before he could respond, two scrawny arms wrapped around my waist and squeezed.

“Miles! Miles, Miles, Miles!” Soup said, jumping up and down and making my fat jiggle. “You did it!”

“Careful, Soup,” Fezzik said. “He just had an accident.”

“Did what?” I said, prying Soup off of me.

“You won!”

“I . . . did?” I turned around. My kart had rolled across
the finish line. And Dryad's . . . was still behind it. She had stopped to see if I was okay. My heart lifted. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Fezzik nodded. “You skidded across.”

Soup rolled his hand through the air. “You were like
Psh krnch prk pow! Bang!
Ha-ha! I'm only laughing because you're okay, and I helped you win, so we get to hang out! Hee, hee, hee.” He put a hand on my stomach and back and jiggled both. “Do you hate it when I do that?”

“I won?” I said.

Fezzik nodded. “Last I checked, you were gunning for best time.”

It was as if some invisible force had pulled my kart across that finish line. The Gravitational pull was strong, and it was helping me win at everything.

My date was destiny.

I immediately headed back toward the coach to get my scroll stamped. Soup skipped alongside me and chanted, “I helped you wi-in! I pushed you acro-oss! Now you have to hang out with me when we get ho-ome!”

I couldn't argue with that. He had helped me win—in a really weird way. And I had promised that I would hang out with him. That didn't mean I had to look excited about it.

“Plus also?” Soup said as if he could sense my hesitation. He mimed sewing.

I quickly slapped his hands down before anyone could see. Then I smiled. I'd almost forgotten. The cross-stitches. They would close my 3,000-point gap.

I patted Soup's head. “I'll let you watch me play video games at your house.”

“Yesssssss!”

As we approached the coach, Scarecrow stormed past us. Dryad followed him, saying, “I just wanted to see if he was okay!” She didn't even glance in my direction. Fine by me.

I held my scroll out to the coach. He didn't take it.

“You went above the speed limit,” he said.

“Yep,” I said, all smiles. “I also almost died.” I rolled up my bloody shirtsleeve and showed him my road rash. I sucked through my teeth, even though it didn't hurt that bad. “I'd hate to have to sue this place.”

The coach crossed his arms, making his nipples look angrier than usual. “You used that line before.”

I stood firm. “I sure did.”

It worked this time too.

L
ooks like you could use some rest, adventurer,” Fezzik said, back in the Nest.

“Oh, no, I'm fine.” I rolled my shoulder, trying not to wince. “I really”—
need points
—“don't want to miss out on therapy.”

Fezzik nodded. “I don't want you missing out either. Especially considering it might be your last one. Heh. Just promise to head over to the Fairy Fountain when we're finished.”

I gave him a thumbs-up and joined the guild circle.

“No fair!” Soup said. “Why does Aurora get to sit so close to you?”

Aurora and I glanced at each other, found we were only a few inches apart, and then scooted in opposite directions.

Fezzik shut the blinds and turned on the fluorescents, making us all look sunburned and exhausted.

“Exciting Chocobo race today, everyone!” he said. “Especially
for you, Miles. Nothing like a few battle scars to bring home, right?”

I rubbed my shoulder and smiled. I'd finally be able to share real scars with a real lady.

“That was the craziest!” Soup said. “Miles was driving, and he went like
rrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnn—rrrrrrtttttttt
—”

“Fury Burds mayor?” Fezzik said. “We're going to talk about some pretty heavy things today. May I have your permission to do that?”

Soup placed his hands together between his knees. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” Fezzik opened to the guild. “Today I want to start by talking about the desire to be important.”

Despite the pain in my shoulder, I was glowing. This could be my last guild therapy. If I participated in every activity, turned in Soup's cross-stitches, and won just one more gold, I was going to make it. I was going to fucking make it. I felt invincible.

There was only one problem. If and when I won the paintball tournament, I'd have about two hours to get back to Salt Lake. It had taken Command more than an hour to drive us to Video Horizons, which means I'd be cutting it close. I wondered if G-man would need to take me straight to Mandrake's or if I'd have enough time to run home to clean up a bit.

“We all want to have a place in the world,” Fezzik said. “We want to be acknowledged with good grades, boyfriends, girlfriends, awards, scholarships, and all of the things that make us feel like successful human beings.”

No time for a back and crack wax now. But I definitely needed a change of clothes. I'd look like an idiot if I changed back into the
Super Mario
shirt I'd been wearing at the car wash. And these white pants hadn't been flattering
before
spending four days in the desert. Now I looked like a toasted marshmallow that had been dropped in the sand.

“We
feel
important when we game,” Fezzik continued. “We feel powerful. The problem is, the more you invest in those other worlds, the more you lose in the world we actually live in. Obviously, for everyone in this circle, the draw to other worlds is strong. It's easy to get swept up in a fantasy landscape with clear challenges, immersive environments, and an attractive avatar who gets updated graphics . . . unlike our real selves. Heh.”

“Speak for yourself,” Meeki said.

“Heh. Except you, of course, Meeki.”

Maybe I could pick up some flowers on the way to the restaurant to draw attention away from the pants. Or maybe I could get a dandelion puffball from Aurora and show Gravity how it mimicked the universe.

“The point is,” Fezzik said, “these worlds can make you leave the really important things behind. Health. Cleanliness. Emotional stability. When you've got games on the brain, everything else receives minimal attention. And who could blame you? This world we live in is punishing. You'll never be the best goalie or the best artist or the best student. That's not easy to swallow. Real life seems like it's designed to make
you feel helpless. Games, however, are designed to make you feel like the most important thing in the universe. That's what makes it a psychological addiction.”

I started when I realized Fezzik was staring at me. “That's why you're here,” he said. Then he looked at Aurora. “To learn how to enjoy being good at real life.” He looked at Meeki. “To find the power in doing the dishes and getting some exercise and being social.” He looked at Soup. “To learn that the most uncomfortable things in life are often the most rewarding.” He looked at Zxzord, passed out in his chair. “To learn how to enjoy yourself without harmful stimulation.” He slapped his leg. “If you've got those in line, I say play all the video games you want. Just don't tell G-man I said so. Heh-heh.”

This talk was unnecessary for me. I was kicking
ass
at real life. In the last few days, I had placed third in a sporting tournament, levitated a Ping-Pong ball, and taken gold in a kart race.

Fezzik rubbed his hands together. “Does anyone want to talk about the hurdles they've experienced when dealing with the real world?”

Aurora raised her hand.

“Aurora. Excellent.”

“It seems like real-life hurdles are always moving,” she said, playing with her hair. “You want to do something, like paint a wall. But then it's so much harder than you thought it would be. The paint isn't as pretty as it was on the swatch thingy, and the rollers keep sticking, and the ugly old green color keeps
showing through, even after three whole coats. And then all of a sudden it's dark outside because you've been painting all day, and you get frustrated and you try to work faster and then you accidentally kick over a paint can and then you have a whole new hurdle, which is convincing your parents to buy you a new carpet.”

“Sounds like you're speaking from experience,” Fezzik said. “Heh-heh. After a debacle like that, it's no wonder we want to go play a game where the rules are as simple as THERE! DRAGON! KILL! Heh. Excellent, Aurora. Anyone else have frustrating real-world hurdles they've experienced?”

The road rash on my shoulder itched. I tried to scratch it as lightly as possible, but it just made it tickle, so I gave up.

“Miles?” Fezzik said. “You keep going the way you are, you just might be back in the real world tomorrow.”

“Nooooooo,” Soup said.

“Yes,” I said.

Meeki scoffed.

“Bless you,” I said.

She looked ready to kill me. “Why is it fair that he gets to leave this soon when he hasn't learned anything?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Care to elaborate, Meeki?” Fezzik said.

“Yeah,
some
of us are trying to grow as people so we can get back and see our friends and families.”

“Uh, really?” I said. “Last I checked, you wouldn't even admit you hit your brother.”

“Hmm,” Meeki said. “Weird that
I'm
the one who won't admit that I hit someone.”

That made me shut my mouth. Fortunately, Fezzik seemed distracted by a thought.

“It's true that life isn't fair sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time, actually. Some people receive more privileges in life. They're able to pull ahead more quickly than others.”

And some people are just naturally more talented,
I thought.

“Maybe that's another reason video games are attractive,” Fezzik said. “We all start from the same place when we pick up a control paddle. Games are the great equalizer.”

Meeki nodded.

Again, Fezzik looked at me.

God, I just wanted out of there.

“Miles, let's say you are, in fact, released tomorrow. What do you think you've learned while you've been here?”

“Plenty of stuff,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Um, like, that I'm not terrible at Four Square or kart racing or . . . cross-stitching.”

“He's a
real
good cross-stitcher,” Soup said. “The best.”

I widened my eyes at him to convey that he was saying too much and to please shut up, but Fezzik just nodded. “I'm sure it's nice to find some innate skills in surprising areas, Miles. But I want you to dig even deeper.”

“What do you mean?”

“During my training as an addictions counselor, I saw
plenty of people in treatment who set up unrealistic expectations for what would happen once they were released. They were always sorely disappointed. It's like taking on a raid that's seven levels too high but seems so enticing that you can't turn it down.”

“Gravity is not seven levels too high for me,” I said, hoping that was actually true.

“I'm not saying she is,” Fezzik said. “But let's look at a worst-case scenario, shall we?”

I braced myself. I'd been living through worst-case scenarios my entire life.

“What if Gravity isn't interested in dating a gamer?” he asked.

I scratched at some of the sand baked into my pants. “That's fine. I don't think of myself as a gamer.”

Meeki snorted. “You're a
player
.”

“Very funny,” I said. “You need to get girls to be a player.”

“I didn't say you were a player who
wins
,” she said.

“Okay, okay, heh-heh,” Fezzik said. “This isn't about accusing. This is about opening up and understanding ourselves. Go ahead, Miles.”

I was so ready to be done with this shit. “ ‘Gamer' is an embarrassing term,” I said. “It makes people think of sweaty, chubby, nerdy kids who sit in basements. Don't look at me like that, Meeki. That's not who I'll be to Gravity.”

“That's fair,” Fezzik said. “But you might be kidding yourself if you believe you're going to leave that lifestyle behind
forever. What happens if this date with Gravity isn't everything you want it to be?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if you don't like her? What if she doesn't like you?”

Why couldn't he just let me win and enjoy it?

“We got along really well,” I said.

“Yeah, but you've only seen her one time,” he said. “And under pretty romantic conditions, it sounds like—you rescuing her from someone who sprayed her with a hose.”