Bruce stared into the small unlit room that was now in front of him. He was sure it hadn't been there before.
As he moved toward it, he glanced down and saw a glint. He bent over. There was a single quarter, half-buried in the dust in front of the threshold. He palmed it and straighted up, his heart thumping in his chest.
As he walked in, the lights came up, and he saw that it was an old-fashioned video arcade, like the one he'd spent hours in when he was Andrew's age--well, the age Andrew had been moments before. The games were all flashing previews, but the sound was off only all of them, making the room a strange twilight zone of flickering lights with no sound.
The ceiling was low and he had to hunch over.
He walked over to Agent Avenger, a game he'd played endlessly as a kid about a secret agent killing a truckload of enemy spies in order to rescue a president. A sign over it said:
"This game will translate points into something you desire. The more points you get, the more your wish will be fulfilled. Speak your wish when you see GAME OVER."
Perfect! Bruce thought.
He gently set Andrew down on the ground next to the game and popped the quarter into the game. The game started up and he felt an adrenaline rush as he started slogging through the bad guys with his AK47 semi-automatic.
But he was a little out of practice, and his long fingers were totally not where he expected them to be. He died before he was two minutes into the game. He did better on his second life, escalating to the next level, but his third and final life died in a bloody explosing only moment after he'd started. The screen sizzled and displayed his score: 75000 points, his worst ever by thousands of points.
The screen cleared and GAME OVER appeared in big, blood-red letters.
Bruce sighed. "I want Andrew to be older," he said to the screen. He turned and looked down at Andrew, far below. "I hope that's enough."