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From as far back as she could remember, Iris had always woken with the sun.
Back when her family occupied a semi-modest two-floor standalone in the suburbs beyond city limits, the sun would rise to greet her every single morning. In turn, Iris would rise to greet it, with a smile and an eagerness to start her day. It was a bit like a contract they shared -- the sun would shine, and so too would Iris.
Even after moving to the city to be closer to her father's office, Iris continued to rise with the sun. No more backyard and white picket fence to contain her youthful outdoor romps, just another condo in a series of upper-middle-class condos... but it was a condo with her room facing to the east, meaning that beautiful light of dawn would break through her bedroom just as it always had. One reliable thing in her life, no matter where they settled down and took root. No matter what else in life had changed.
And so on a beautiful early June morning, Iris rose with the sun, yawning and stretching amidst all the ruffles and fluffy pillows on her queen-sized bed, pleased to see that old friend smiling away in the sky. If there was an appropriately cheery montage song playing in the soundtrack of her life, that would be when the melody drops in, as she smiled right back and began prep for the day ahead.
First matter at hand: picking out a nice outfit to wear.
Iris's closet had always been a wild array of color, hues spread all across the rainbow. Her earliest clothes had been largely monotone, white and pink and pink and white with some pink tossed in for good measure, but ever since she was allowed to pick her own clothes she'd aimed for more variety than that. Not that she really had any fashion sense to speak of, but she had an aesthetic, and stuck with it.
First, the skirt. (Always skirts.) Something with ruffles this time, something a little fancier than before. Maybe a belt or two, for the Quirky factor. (Kindly / Quirky. Had to stick to what you know.) Pull out the raspberry beret again, because Kay seemed to notice it last time, seemed to like it. (Making Kay feel more and more welcome.) Finish it off with a light array of makeup, to highlight tone and feature, using skills passed down from mother to daughter. End result: Iris, expressed in full.
Next task before she could scoot out the door, reading her electronic mails from America On-Line.
The beige desktop box clacked and whirred to life, its internal modem screeching quietly as it made the connection. Soon enough, she was connected to cyberspace, to the information superhighway, and ready to collect all sorts of missives from her friends!
Well, missive. From friend, singular.
SUBJ: You're fine, relax
NAME: Jason Takeshi (jasontak@theworld.net)
DATE: Mon Jun 06 02:12:45 199X
No, I don't think you scared Kay away. She came back yesterday while you were busy doing church stuff and seemed thrilled to be playing the homebrew mod I made, so you've at least got the hook baited. Chill the hell out, okay? We're fine. You're fine.
I'm pretty sure she's coming back today, too. She doesn't have a part-time job (unlike SOME of us who are trying to get work done during the day...) and this is looking like her new summer haunt. Enjoy it while it lasts.
Just relax and be yourself. Trust me.
Your friend,
Jason.
(Because I know you like it when I sign emails like traditional letters.)
(Also if you want to get out of the AOL ghetto and join the rest of us in the real world -- including Kay -- I can set you up with a GameOver BBS account. Assuming your folks allow you to peek at the world beyond the walled garden of AOL.)
Good news, for a good morning. And further justification for her choice in berets to wear today.
Feeling freshly invigorated on top of existing invigoration, she gathered up her backpack full of fresh graph paper and colored pencils and snacks and other goodies, and headed out the door to start another wonderful day at the Funplex.
Or rather, she would have, if she wasn't intercepted.
Exiting the condo meant walking through the living room. It meant walking past the domain of the one who controlled that space entirely... her professional homemaker mother, who was always there. Always.
"Good morning, Iris!"
And Iris froze in her tracks, just feet away from the front door and freedom.
Turning on one heel, she presented her warmest possible smile to the woman.
"Good morning, mother!" she spoke, with a smile made possible by high-budget dentistry.
While Iris stood there, waiting to continue this mandatory conversation, her mother patiently flipped through a glossy magazine while seated in her empire of plush carpet and expensive furniture. Queen of the Thompson family castle, of which Iris Thompson was merely a Princess.
The Thompson living room remained ever-pristine -- it wasn't a room for living, despite the title. It was a room for showing off what their life was built from, what it was capable of. Every piece of furniture bore an invisible price tag, an implied statement of value -- and to actually use any of it might devalue the room.
(Of course, her mother was allowed to use it. Her mother was delicate and precise enough not to sit in any way upon those cushions such that they would become rumpled or wrinkled.)
There she sat on one of her many thrones, magazine in hand, keeping her daughter pinned in place under social niceties without even having to look up from her reading.
"Heading off to the Funplex, then?" she asked. Quietly, casually.
"Definitely! And I'll call you at two o'clock sharp, just like always."
"Of course, of course," mother spoke, finally looking up to smile. "By the way, I'm making your favorite tonight -- meatloaf."
"That's... great! I'm looking forward to it."
"Wonderful! Why not invite your new friend over, to enjoy it with us?"
The air currents passed mechanically throughout the condo always stayed a pleasant seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, regardless of season. Hot or cold, life was always perfect in this house. Even when the localized air around someone drops a few degrees as chills run down their spine.
"Oh, umm..." Iris said, desperately searching for an excuse, knowing none would be acceptable. "I... don't know if Kay really has time for that..."
"Nonsense. It's summer; this is the time for kids like you to have fun and do all sorts of things," her mother suggested. "Schedules are for when you're older, with a husband and children of your own. I'm sure Kay would be more than happy to spend some time here with you, seeing as you're such good friends. Yes?"
"Of course! Of course. Right," Iris agreed, searching for a new excuse. "But maybe I should make sure she isn't already planning a big family dinner with her own parents...? I wouldn't want to impose and make her have to choose, right? It'd be impolite."
"True, true. Perhaps I could talk to Kay's mother, then? Make arrangements?"
"Oh, no no, that won't be needed! I'll... I'll just ask Kay over to dinner, then," Iris spoke, collapsing inward. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll be fine. Set the table for four! We'll be here at six o'clock sharp, right!"
With the matter completely settled, her mother turned back to her reading. "We'll be ready. Love you, Iris. Have a good day and give Miss Francine my best."
And Iris was out the door like a lightning bolt.
She didn't stop moving, didn't even perceive the concept of time until she found herself hanging onto an arm strap as the subway car rattled its way towards the Funplex. Only then could she breathe. (And immediately regret it, considering the funky smell of public transport.)
A minor stumbling block, and one she'd gotten past before. If Iris could survive having Jason of all people over to dinner with her parents, surely the more mild-mannered Kay would be even less risky. It would be fine. Everything would be fine.
And Kay wouldn't abandon her afterwards, either.
Trying to get her head back in her sunshine-soaked morning mentality, she refocused on the day ahead... and her plans. Plans that would require the fresh stack of graph paper she'd specifically bagged up for her journey. If she fixated on those goals, any other problems could wait.
The Funplex, and the freedom it promised, lie ahead. Kay was waiting. And only good things could happen from here on out.
Iris exploded onto the scene like a comet, crashing through those doors, and making an orbit around the arcade leaving a tail of good cheer particles in her wake.
Saying hello to everyone was a must -- all the regulars, the kids who used this place as semi-free daycare, the teenagers working on high scores or competing in the fighting games. A quick moment to catch up with everyone and announce that Iris has arrived, that Iris is now available if anyone wants to chat. Same way she'd started every other day at the Funplex.
She swung by the prize desk, said her hellos to Francine, tried to say hello to Frederick but he was snoozing away again. Also very normal.
Last step was to drop by the workshop in the back, to let Jason know she was here. Given you could set your watch to Iris's comings and goings, Jason was undoubtedly expecting her and didn't really need a formal declaration of arrival... but there was a ritual to it, a sense that this is how things got done. Iris's family was very keen on life rituals--
--except that ritual had a new wrinkle, as she approached the "Employee's Only" door to Jason's workshop. Because to get there, she had to pass by Guitar Legends.
Two days ago, Iris had been shocked to discover this woman jamming away on that game. A woman with strange hair, dangling bangs half-dyed black. Wearing a flannel shirt around the waist of her denim jeans, like it was the encroaching chill of fall. (Or like she was a boy, or something.) The sight of it left Iris... flustered, in a way.
Now on this fresh new morning, the same sight. The same passion and power of one woman with a guitar, playing music with effortless ease coupled with absolute focus and intensity. Every note ringing true, even when the notes themselves were powerful sounds of melancholy and anger. A strange mixture of peace and chaos, the likes of which Iris was wholly unprepared for given the general blanket ban on rock music in her home. Sounds and sights that again left her flustered and unable to find the words...
And again, Iris was left standing there in awe, right up until Kay noticed her.
"Hey," Kay greeted, simply.
"Heyyyy," Iris greeted, with a little giggle.
"Gotta say, this mod Jason made kicks some ass," Kay said, going through the ritual of hanging up her guitar on the game's built-in instrument rack. "Been playing all morning and I still haven't gotten through all the tracks. Hope he's not gonna get in trouble for this, though. It's not exactly legal, right...?"
"Oh, Miss Francine doesn't care," Iris explained, cheerfully dismissing the concern. "And it's white collar crime, which is basically okay, right? I mean, nobody gets arrested for it. That's what my dad says, anyway."
"...right," Kay replied, with a pause. "I mean, I don't care personally, just... don't wanna get you in trouble. You or Jason or the Funplex, for that matter..."
"I won't tell if you won't," Iris said, with a wide and slow one-eyed wink.
"Uh, there something in your eye...?"
"Um, no no, I'm... winking. Conspiratorially," Iris added. "To a partner in crime!"
"O... kay."
Diving immediately into a tangent before she needed to commit to robbing a bank or something to prove she was just as cool and rebellious as Kay, Iris tugged on the strap of her backpack, twisting a bit to show it off.
"I'd like to run an idea by you and Jason, if you're taking a break," she suggested. "We've got all the resources we need to get it done now! I've got fresh paper and fresh pencils, and... well. You'll see. Are you, um... available? If you'd rather get back to your music, we could do it later--"
"No no, it's cool. It's cool," Kay said, likewise embracing opportunity to get out of that previous line of thought. "What do you have in mind?"
"Something big," Iris promised. "Something huge. Something that'll blow your mind!"
"Not this again," Jason complained, groaning as he leaned back in his chair, its ancient joints threatening to buckle under the pressure.
Which was... not quite the response Iris was hoping for.
This was meant to be a huge moment -- a conspiratorial gathering in the back room of the Funplex, bouncing ideas off of each other, making something grand and wonderful happen. Instead she got Jason's usual snark, and a series of confused looks from Kay. Not exactly the epic start of their legend that Iris had planned on.
Still, no sense giving up after the first try. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And again. And again. And again. And...
"And now we can actually do it!" she insisted, leaning across the workbench to match her friend's lean of withdrawal from the idea. "This time it'll work. Your brains, my creativity, and Kay's talent! We've got everything we need to make it happen!"
Jason sat back upright, rubbing his face with his hands to peel away the exhaustion after another 3 a.m. Internet crawl and full morning of Funplex internship.
"You're serious. You still want to make an arcade game?" he repeated. "Like, a whole-ass game. Cabinet, code, art, music, the whole thing?"
"Absolutely!" Iris declared, standing proudly. "I know, I know I proposed this before, and you shot it down. Not enough time, not enough staff, flat out ridiculous and impossible dream, yadda yadda yadda. But... but now, we have our secret weapon!"
And Iris gestured dramatically to that secret weapon, who was busy examining a strangely-shaped nacho from a tiny vending machine bag.
"Uh, me?" Kay added, missing her cue by three seconds.
"Yes, you! Your musical genius!"
"...wouldn't say I'm a genius..."
"I mean, what do you need to make an arcade game? What's the minimum you need?" Iris asked, counting them off on her fingers. "You need a programmer to develop the game code, someone who knows arcade hardware inside and out. You need an artist to create the sprites, someone with pixel art experience. And you need a musician to give it life, someone who can create emotion from thin air!"
"From a guitar."
"Someone who can create emotion from a guitar," Iris corrected. "Exactly! We've got everything we need right in this room. We're young, we're capable, we're ready! This is our hour! Generation X, embracing the dream!"
Jason snorted at the idea. "I thought Gen X were supposed to be all slackers and layabouts," he said. "That's what the newspapers say about us, anyway..."
"Then this is our chance to prove them wrong! The three of us can be a beacon for our whole generation, proving we're going to lead the way into tomorrow!"
"By making an arcade game."
"Yes, by making an arcade game," Iris added, getting slightly pouty over Jason's dismissive attitude. "Look, it's... it's a start. It's a statement, of sorts. And beyond being some philosophy thing, it's just... fun. It's fun to make a game, right? --yes, I know what you're about to say, it's also hard work, thank you. But it's fun hard work! Would you be working here if you weren't having fun, Jason?"
"Well, it looks good on a resume to have a solid internship in my chosen field..."
"You keep bragging that you have a golden ticket waiting for you at Matsushida, so don't say your resume matters," Iris protested, eager to head off every objection she knew he'd bring up. "You're really here because you love tinkering on games. Don't deny it. What if instead of some illegal homebrew mod... you made your own game? Wouldn't that just be the best...?"
Bait and hook. Iris knew her friend, knew what really drove his spirit. As much as he complained, she knew how much he loved being back here, loved poking and prodding at hardware in ways other companies would never allow. Matsushida certainly wouldn't give him the blank check Miss Francine did...
"Okay, for sake of argument, let's say I'm not entirely opposed to the idea," he mumbled.
"Sure, if you want to sake an argument."
"Let's also bear in mind that school starts back up again in September, and my internship here is only during summers. We go to three different schools and have three different futures. I'm off to corporate zaibatsu life, Iris is lined up for college, and Kay... well. Point is, we won't have time to build a game after that. So realistically, we'd have to make a complete arcade game in three months."
"Yes, and?"
"And...?! Are you seriously Howard Scott Warshaw-ing me here, Iris?" Jason asked. "Asking me to build E.T. in a few months? Have we learned nothing from that? --no, scratch that, we haven't. But I'm just a video game historian, what do I know..."
"So, we build a game in three months! We can do that. We have to do that..."
"We don't have to do anything," Jason countered. "We have a road map for our lives already laid out. Just like our parents, we're supposed to graduate high school, go to college, get a job, get married, pump out some babies, then retire and die. It's all been pre-arranged. We could be asleep for most of it and nothing would change. So don't tell me we have to--"
"We have to do it before we're not able to be friends anymore!!"
...a statement which left Jason and Kay speechless. From the sudden and urgent tone in Iris's voice, her desperate outburst, and simply form confusion over what that meant.
But Iris was quick to explain, leaning heavily on the table, trying to bring her voice down from that intensity.
"...you said it yourself, Jason," she spoke. "After this summer, we're all back to school. And after school, we're all off to start our own lives. This is... this is all we have. I might never see you again after August. Everything's been planned out for me, but you don't figure into those plans. Not you, and... and not Kay..."
Slowly, she sank back into her seat. Losing the power and drive that had her standing throughout her overly-dramatic argument.
"I... I don't want this last summer we have together to be just playing games," Iris admitted. "It'd be fun, don't get me wrong, but... I want to do something, something that proves we were here, that we had this time together. If this is a game, we've only got one more quarter to spend on it. Don't we want that last game to be the best it can be...?"
For his part... Jason was about to say something sarcastic and snarky, but held it back. Swallowing the words immediately, and looking to Iris instead.
"I'm not... I won't force either of you to do this," she concluded. "I know this is a lot to ask. I know I'm going off on one of my little daydreams again. But... but if you want to do this... now is the time. Now is the last time. Okay...?"
But this wasn't a two-way conversation. Despite her natural instincts towards quiet participation, Kay spoke up.
"I'll do it," she said. "I'll write music for the game."
"Y-You don't have to, if you don't want to--" Iris stammered, before Kay raised a hand to silence her.
"I said it and I meant it," Kay spoke. "I'm not the musical genius you think I am, but... it's not like all I want to do is play other people's songs. I'll never find the sound I'm looking for if I'm doing that. So... maybe I try something new. Maybe I make music for a game. Okay. I'll do it. Let's give it a go."
Two to one, now. But very quickly three to zero.
"If we're doing this, we do it right," Jason decided, again massaging the exhaustion from his forehead. "Time to dig into the prototypes."
For a "portable computer," Jason's laptop easily outclassed any desktop computer Iris or Kay had ever seen -- a fully-powered 486 machine. The idea of a teenager lugging around hardware normally only used by high-powered executives or professional engineers was nonsense... but fortunately, nonsense that benefited them today.
One by one, he was showing off a set of small orange boxes that shuffled themselves around the screen. Not that his screen was an amber monochrome -- it had full 256 colors -- but all the games were nothing more than orange boxes.
"This is what I do instead of, like, sports," Jason explained for Kay's benefit. "I make game demos. Just prototype after prototype of whatever game idea pops in my head."
"How... how many games?" Kay asked, amazed at the sheer list, as Jason started and stopped various demos, trying to remember which one was which.
"Dunno, a dozen? Three dozen? I stopped counting," he said, with a shrug. "None of them are full games, they're just ideas of games. That's why it's all orange boxes, they're placeholders where you'd need to jam in some actual art..."
"Right, I mean, I knew that," Kay (who did not in fact know that) stated.
"So if we're seriously doing this, we need a starting point. We take one of these protos and flesh it out. I mean, c'mon, we've got three months to make a full game, we gotta leverage whatever leverage we can get, right? Right. Just pick any one of these demos, and we'll work from there to get it running on some real arcade hardware..."
Kay squinted to see the tiny letters on the LCD screen, reading from generic names like "Ball" and "Race" and "Zap."
"I... have no idea where to start with this," she admitted. "Any of them you'd recommend?"
"Welllll... if we want to work from some of my more complete ideas..." Jason mumbled, bashing out a DOS command on the plastic keys as he talked, "Maybe we start simple. Okay. 'Jump.' This one has you jumping on bad guys while navigating a world made out of platforms."
Iris raised her hand. "I like it! We can make cute animals jumping around, and--"
"Pass," Kay spoke quickly.
"But... but super cute animals!"
"Every other game is super cute animals jumping on other super cute animals," Kay pointed out. "I don't want to make a game that's like every other game. If we only get one shot at this we should do something... something special. Something nobody's really done before. Right?"
With a sigh, Jason skipped past four more demos, trying to recall which ones were somehow wholly unique ideas never seen before in the world.
"Maybe... 'Fist'?" he suggested. "Okay, so I know it looks like a Final Fight clone, but the idea is that you're punching these ninjas while the second player is also punching ninjas, and you're both part of ninja armies fighting to reach each other's dojo--"
"Pass," Iris spoke.
"Pass?! Come on, this one's got potential to be the next big esport...! If I spent the summer really working on it, I could add buyable items and special moves and ultimate attacks and maybe online play--"
"It's too violent," Iris protested, with a pout. "If I'm going to draw art for a game, I want it to be... I mean it doesn't have to be cute if we don't want cute but it at least has to be nice, you know? I'm not interested in drawing people hurting each other."
Kay offered a shrug to the clearly exasperated programmer. "I'm okay with violence, but if Iris isn't in favor, I'll pass too," she said. "Should be something all three of us want to make."
"Ughhh. Fine. ...put that one in my back pocket for a rainy day, I guess," Jason grumbled, closing out FISTDSCM.EXE. "So... something innovative and not particularly violent..."
One by one he briefly opened and closed demos, orange boxes dancing around the screen. Didn't even wait for objections, just flipping through them to find something, anything that jumped off the screen at him...
Before he could shut down the ninth candidate, Kay interrupted him, fingers already poised over Control and C.
"That one," she said. "That's the one."
Confused, Jason glanced back at the screen... where an orange box was defending a larger orange box from smaller boxes, through a complicated series of inputs.
"What? Seriously?" he asked. "But... that one's just Missile Command with extra steps. It's frustrating and boring; I couldn't figure out a way to make it fun..."
But Kay, normally reserved and quiet in the middle of these giant Iris/Jason showdowns... Kay was smiling.
"That's why you've got me, right?" she said. "We take your idea and add music. Not just some background soundtrack; music can be the whole game..."
Ragged sneakers kicked up ash and soot, as his feet scrambled for purchase. Skidding around a forgotten street corner, he spotted an alleyway -- the skeletal remains of two buildings, providing a brief refuge that might be just enough to escape...
Seeing the opportunity, he dashed for cover between the squat rubble of two city blocks. A battered dumpster provided cover, as he tucked himself into as small a space as possible, and waited.
Soon, the melodic drone of the enemy forces could be heard over the general sounds of crumbling decay that still echoed throughout the ruined metropolis.
Covering his ears to muffle that terrible sound, he prayed, begged that they would pass this alley by. That their search for survivors to indoctrinate into their strange ranks would simply overlook him, leave him in peace...
Amber-yellow spotlights swung down the alley, skimming over the dumpster he remained hidden behind. The light hadn't touched him; maybe they wouldn't notice. Maybe...
But the haunting saxophone said otherwise.
Gleaming brass and malevolent glass swirled into the air before him, as a robot drone from the Smooth Jazz Alien Invasion Force identified the foolish human that thought it could hide from their all-encompassing mellow grooves.
This is it, he realized. This is the end. I'll be playing sixty-seven minute improvisational mood music in a three-piece ensemble by the end of the day, my mind wiped by the soul-erasing alien armada...
As the gentle cymbal brushes and snare rolls of the Smooth Jazz Army closed in, drones entering the alley from both ends, he braced for his doom--
--only to have his ears perk up at the sound of a crashing power chord.
Waves of sculpted noise knocked drones away, as the heroine landed in a perfect power stance before the dumpster. Raising her lightning pick high, she harnessed the raw energy of this dying world, for one massive strum across her six-stringed instrument of destruction...
And the alien drones shattered, the sheer awesomeness of her music rendering them little more than a pile of brass and valves and highly marketable adult-contemporary instrumentation.
Stunned, he slowly got to his feet, realizing who had just saved him.
"Madame Mayor!" he declared, relief filling him instantly as the leader of the Free City of Rocktopia turned to face him.
The fierce and powerful Mayor swept one lock of hair from her face, regarding him with a warm expression.
"You're safe now, fellow human," she declared. "Can you make it to the gates of Rocktopia yourself? You'll find food, shelter, and safety there -- but I've got more survivors to rescue before night falls. Together we must make our stand on the grandest stage of them all, against the alien armies of Smooth Jazz!"
"Absolutely! I'm ready to fight, ma'am!" he declared, throwing up the horns in salute. "For the spirit of humanity, and the power of rock!"
...leaving the audience speechless.
"And that's the resource gathering phase," Iris continued, gesturing to the cheap whiteboard and its sketchy cartoon illustration. "The player controls the Mayor of Rocktopia, freeing humans from the Smooth Jazz Aliens. Those are the orange dots and the orange triangles from your prototype, right, Jason?"
Her stunned friend tried to object to the sheer nonsense of all this.
"I... I was thinking you just sorta gathered ammunition or grenades or something during the first phase of the game," he tried. "Like getting bombs in Sinistar--"
"We don't need guns! We need the power of rock!" Iris declared. "And how better to represent the power of rock than by rescuing humans to become part of the show?"
"Part of the... oh I'm going to regret asking this but part of the show? What show, exactly...?"
Quickly, Iris swiped the old eraser across the whiteboard. Uncapped a new pen, this time a hot pink, to really add excitement to the next scene.
"After the resource gathering phase where you build up your defenses... it's time to put on the show," she continued, starting to draw. "And that's when the music starts..."
Night falls on the last free city of humankind. The neon and spotlights come to life, illuminating the colorful megalopolis of Rocktopia -- our final hope for peace and salvation in a world devastated by the all-encompassing menace of Smooth Jazz...
Here, the remaining humans eke out a living. Here is where hope is born and dreams thrive, despite the desolation of the world around them. Families with children, young people seeking their ambitions, and the elderly trying to enjoy peaceful twilight years... all the ones the Mayor had rescued from the surrounding territory, building up their population. Building up the audience.
And every night, the Jazz Aliens came. Every night, they tried to lay low the city of music and dreams. And every night, the Mayor would take to the stage with sacred guitar in hand, to lead her people against the ones who sought their destruction.
The grand stage faced the audience, but it was an open-air arena, so that she could direct the efforts of the great structures of Rocktopia -- each one capable of different types of attacks against the enemy...
The Grunge Garage, whose dirty sound could slow down the approach of incoming ground units. The Rock 'n Roll Diner, which fortified the people, producing greasy cheeseburgers and milkshakes for everyone to keep them healthy. The Punk Moshpit, their primary means of attack, driving waves of angry rebellion against the forces of alien conformity. And to finish off the invaders like a guillotine blade from above, she could empower the Spire of Metal -- its absolute doom a certainty against all who would seek mankind's destruction.
These four pillars would serve well in the battle / concert ahead. If they survived another night, she could scout for new survivors in the morning, strengthening the four. Every night the aliens ramped up their attacks, she would meet them with the determination of humanity.
Taking to the stage, hearing the cheers of Rocktopia's population, the Mayor took the time to tune her hot pink guitar. This weapon of musical redemption had to be perfect, absolutely perfect... because soon, the enemy would be upon them. Soon, the show would begin.
"And then you blow up the bad guys with rock music," Iris concluded, capping her pen.
"...what," Jason asked.
"What," Jason asked again.
Iris flashed him a bright smile. "It's the key to everything!" she explained. "Like Kay said, instead of making it 'Missile Command with extra steps,' we make it about music! Music is the weapon! Not explosives and bullets and violence, just the passion and energy of really good music...!"
As Jason sat there in a stunned stupor, the quietest of the three finally spoke up.
"Makes sense here," Kay said, leaning back in her chair, satisfied with the presentation. "And when you want to activate one of the four special defense weapons -- the four Pillars of Rock -- you play a quick rhythm sequence, tapping it out on the buttons. It's like... it's like Guitar Legends meets a strategy-action game. Pretty badass combo."
"And, and...! It fits neatly into the prototype Jason made, so we don't need to reinvent the wheel," Iris added, wanting to put more weight behind the idea. "The only new gameplay element is a little button-tap sequence for the pillars. Swap out his silly orange dots for my pixel art, add in Kay's amazing music, and we've got Rocktopia: A Musical Arcade Adventure!"
With the two of them aligned against him, Jason crumpled like tissue paper. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight.
The boy groaned, slumping forward in his seat (unlike the more relaxed Kay or hyper-excited Iris.)
"This is a little more complicated than a freakin' palette swap," he indicated. "You want new code, new game features. We'll need some sort of action element for rescuing survivors instead of walking over bullet pick-ups like I'd thought we'd be doing..."
"I know you can do it!" Iris encouraged, balling up her fists and flashing a winning smile. "You're a great programmer!"
"Yes, I can do it. And yes, I am in fact a great programmer," Jason agreed. "I'm just saying that in practical terms this is a hell of a lot of work for a three-month project. And that's not even going into the music system -- I can't drop in an OPL2 chip and a generic AdLib player or something. You want real-sounding rock music, so that means a DAC, SoundBlaster minimum, to record live music..."
"Well, we... we could use synthesized guitars, if it's too difficult--"
"Hell no. Like I said, if we're doing this, we do it right," Jason insisted firmly. "Digitized music. Only way forward. Gonna be pricey hardware, though..."
"I've got an allowance I'm willing to use as our budget!"
"And no doubt Daddy's bank book would carry us far, but I want us to treat this like a real mass-production arcade cabinet and not some one-off hobby project. Doing things right. I'll have to source the parts accordingly, but..."
"But it can be done, right?"
"Yes, it can be done. It's a hell of a thing, but it can be done. And I'll do it," Jason ultimately decided. "Most of the time I'm sitting around back here bored, may as well do something productive with my summer."
"Okay! We're doing this!" Iris decided. "Our dream can become a reality -- the perfect way to spend our one and only summer together! We'll start today, in fact! I'll get some sketches going for Madame Mayor of Rocktopia and the Smooth Jazz Aliens--"
"It's lunchtime. I am not starting anything before I've had lunch," Jason declared, getting up from his chair.
"Okay! I'll go make us some--"
"No pizza bagels. We get real pizza."
"--aww."
Jason unkinked some muscles, having sat there in a tense state for so long... and cast a sideways glance to their newly established Third Friend.
"Before we go too deep, Kay... you seriously think you can do this?" he asked. "Record a bunch of music for the game, in all those different styles...?"
For her part... Kay, who had been quietly thinking that question through for the entire thirty-minute-long presentation, nodded slowly.
"I think... I have to," she said. "Like I said, I'm chasing a perfect sound. If I try all sorts of music, maybe I'll find it faster. Yeah. I'm on board with bringing Rocktopia to life."
"Right. Okay, then. Pizza to fuel the fires of Rocktopia, then we get started," Jason agreed. "Onward, as we Cheese the Day."
Even though the Funplex was their home away from home, the consumer delights of the Twin Pines Mall didn't start and end with an arcade. Plenty of other little businesses, both mom 'n pops and big franchises, lie along the rows of the strip mall in hopes of luring passing motorists in -- or wayward teens looking to keep all their daily activities in one locale.
If you wanted fun, you hit the Funplex. If you wanted your hair cut, you hit the Pengy Barber Shop. If you wanted inoffensive second-hand clothing, you visited the Boring Clothing Store (operated by Mr. and Mrs. Paul Boring). And if you wanted something to eat that didn't come from a microwave, you had no choice but to Cheese the Day.
On the second floor of the mall, up a short and winding set of concrete steps lined with earthtone-pink tiles, you'd find a strange little pizzeria. Instead of pizza on a bagel, they offered pizza on a pizza -- you literally could order a double-decker if you had the stomach and large intestine for it. The eclectic offerings ranged from traditional to exotic, including the Forbidden Topping of pineapple.
With so much on offer, Iris assumed they'd spend minutes and minutes haggling over what to eat for lunch.
"Eh, anything," Kay replied instead.
"Just put it into my face hole already," Jason demanded. "I'm starving."
...leaving Iris holding the bag, standing at the counter and trying to figure out what her indecisive friends might actually enjoy out of the various pizza stylings on offer. While her companions relaxed in a booth, playing with napkins and paper straw coverings and generally fiddling about to keep their mind off their hunger.
The teenager behind the counter was patient, thankfully, as Iris hemmed and hawed over what to order.
"Extra cheese? No, no, that's not impressive enough..." Iris muttered quietly, eyes skimming the menu. "Meat lovers! --wait, is Kay a vegetarian? No no, she ate meat from the pizza bagels the other day. Deep dish? I mean, can we really put away a whole cake worth of pizza...?"
The clerk offered to break the stalemate, waving for Iris's attention.
"How about three-in-one?" he suggested. "Give you a third pepperoni, a third cheese, a third Hawaiian. Mix it up a bit."
"Ohhh, that should work! Thank you, Matt."
The young man known as Matt (so known because of the MATT printed on his plastic employee identification pin) offered a gentle bow of formal gratitude.
"Hey, what are friends for if not to settle important issues of pizza-related difficulty?" he said, ringing it up.
Being on a first name basis with your Pizza Sommelier might've seemed odd, if it was anyone other than Iris. She knew just about everyone at Twin Pines Mall -- all the regulars of the Funplex, the owners of the Boring Clothing Store, and the part-timers at Cheese the Day.
Matt in particular was well known to her. He was lousy at video games, but liked to pop by the Funplex now and then to say hello -- right neighborly, despite being a minimum wage grinder at a neighboring pizza place rather than a community representative. And when two ultra-friendly people meet, they have a tendency to fall completely and deeply in with each other, no matter how little time they actually end up spending together. Matt and Iris shared a similarly sunny outlook; shining on each other only made sense.
This also meant he was willing to exchange more than a cursory few words with her. She wasn't some random customer, she was a friend. Which is also why he took special care to notice the new friend his old friend had dragged into his place of business.
"I get that Jason doesn't care what goes on his pizza, but what about... who is your new friend, exactly?" Matt asked, curiously peeking around the customer/friend before him to see the booth behind her. "Not a familiar face. Friend of yours from school? Or from church?"
"Ah, no no, she's... that's..." Iris spoke, trying to a good way to introduce Kay, trampling her own words in the process. "That's... Kay. That's my new friend Kay."
"Your new friend Kay, then," Matt said, repeating the carefully simple phrase back.
"Right! She's new to the Funplex and, and you know me, I love to show people around my favorite arcade!"
"Mmhmm. You love doing that."
"Yes, and she's... she loves music games, and she dresses pretty cool, and we're going to make an arcade game, and... and I want to make sure she has a really good pizza because I want her to like this place and like... and like this place, and, and so I wanted to be sure to pick out a good one for us to share, and--"
And Matt raised a hand, to cut her off.
"Say no more, say no more," he spoke, with a smile. "I understand completely. I'll make sure you two have a perfectly lovely pizza to share."
"Right! Right. Thank you," Iris replied, glad for the interruption. "Soooo... when can we expect the pizza to be--"
"Oh, soon enough, soon enough. Piping hot and ready for your little date with your new friend," Matt teased, deciding he'd drag this out a little more just for funsies.
Making Iris begin to turn tomato-sauce-red.
"It's not... that isn't... I mean, Jason's right there," Iris felt the need to emphasize, pointing vaguely towards the booth. "And he doesn't date people and anyway there's three of us and it's all just friends and there's no dating, that's silly, I mean--"
"Friendly friends on a play date, then?" Matt continued. "Wanting a special pizza for your friendly friend, mm? Got to make a good first impression on her!"
"Right. Friends. We're friends. ...that's what we are," Iris continued to emphasize. "Friends, sharing a pizza. And a game. Did I mention we're making a game now?"
"Sharing is good. Sharing is caring, and clearly you care quite a bit about this nice lady you met only recently."
"I care about a lot of people. Caring is kinda my thing, Matt."
"True, true," Matt said, nodding to the simple facts as presented and nothing more. "Well, suppose we'll see what a pizza can lead to. A pizza and a game! Winning combination. As for the 'za..."
He snapped his fingers on cue, as the pie slid into view in front of them, served piping hot by the diligent pizzasmiths of Cheese the Day.
"Your order, ma'am," he spoke, with pride. "And hopefully some possibilities to ponder. You let Matt know if you require anything further, you hear?"
Iris shook her head lightly. "I think this should be enough pizza. I need to leave room for dinner, afraid."
"I meant beyond the meal. I'll be on AOL tonight, if you want to chat about, ohhh, anything in particular," he suggested, implying something in particular without being particular about the particulars. "I've got a scheduled LGBT chatroom discussion I'll moderating, but I can spare the attention for you. Okay?"
"'kay," Iris mumbled out quickly accepting the offered pizza before retreating to the table to begin the friendly lunchtime feast. And to get away from any more teasing, troubling questions.
Considering half of the edgy indie movies of the nineties opened up in a restaurant with characters talking about pop culture as a metaphor for life while diegetic radio tunes played, the trio easily fell into deep discussion about music over their semi-deep dish pizza shortly after.
Truthfully, they hadn't had much of an opportunity to really open up and talk about anything other than arcade games yet. Kay had spent a literal single-digit number of hours at the Funplex, somehow ending tangled up in this with incredible ease despite being the newcomer -- but it did mean they were hungry for interaction, this group of new friends, eager to really engage now that opportunity finally presented itself.
And the lowest hanging fruit on the topic tree? Music.
"I don't actually know much of anything about rock music," Iris admitted, after her second slice. (Some people got loaded on beer to open up socially; Iris merely required tons of carbs.) "My family's not big on popular music. There's Christian Rock out there, but mostly I listen to old musicals, I guess...? Singin' in the Rain and the Wizard of Oz have the upbeat cheer I like in a good song."
"You're gonna hate Kay's music, then," Jason joked. "Modern alternative rock is just staring at your shoes and mumbling about your pain."
"What?! I could never hate Kay's music...!"
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that when you're suddenly wearing black mascara and dying your hair and shopping at the thrift store for jeans with holes in them."
Kay pondered that, and... had to concede defeat. "Not gonna lie. Most of my clothes come from thrift stores," she admitted. "But that's mostly because of poverty, not style."
Which caused Iris to cast a withering pout in Jason's direction. "Now look, you've gone and made Kay upset..."
"No no, it's cool," Kay insisted, to calm the situation before it became a situation. "Just saying the facts of the matter; it is what it is. ...but Jason's partly right. Modern rock is kind of a big middle finger to the eighties. Back then, the clothes smiled, the people smiled, and everything was supposedly perfect but actually awful. My rock is... it's more authentic. It won't force a smile."
"But... but smiling's not bad, right?" Iris asked, starting to feel a little uncomfortable herself. "I mean, I smile a lot..."
"Not saying smiling is bad. C'mon, now. But forcing a smile is... it's wrong," Kay suggested, tapping her fingers on the table as she tried to think of how to phrase it to not unsettle her cheerful new friend. "It's... okay. Think back. Y'know how when you were a kid, and your family was in public, they told you to smile? Especially around relatives. Got that a lot at Thanksgiving. Smile, Kay. You should smile more. Well... Kurt taught me it's okay not to smile all the time. He taught me it's okay to feel bad, and admit you feel bad. Pop chart music in the eighties didn't do that."
"And then he shot himself," Jason quipped.
Which finally was enough to genuinely soak the table in uncomfortable energy.
"Yeah. Then he shot himself," Kay spoke, in a small voice.
"...ahhh, @!#?@!. Sorry," he muttered, staring at the table. "Didn't mean to be so harsh, just... @!#?@! like that slips out now and then, I guess. Sorry. ...guessing Kurt meant a lot to you."
"He... did. For a time, yeah," she replied, with a little more confidence. "But he taught me two important things in life. One, it's okay not to smile. Two... don't be afraid to ask for help when you can't smile. If he'd gotten the help he needed, maybe he'd still be around. Instead, he's gone too soon, like Hendrix and Joplin and.. and it sucks, but... I'm around. I'm sticking around as best I can."
And much to her surprise, there was an arm around her shoulder. And had been there for some time, apparently, before Kay noticed. A comforting side hug from a friend.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Iris spoke. "Umm. ...sorry, I just thought you needed a hug, and..."
"It's... I don't mind," Kay admitted, though glancing aside. "It's. It's nice."
"Well... okay, then! I'm a hugger, so I'll hug a bunch from now on!" Iris promised, in good cheer. "And don't feel like you have to smile around me. If you're sad, I'll be here to listen! Even if it's about your, umm... your... Uncle Kurt...?"
Which almost made Jason bang his head against the ball wall of the pizzeria, leaning back to groan. "Not her family. Kurt was a musician, Iris," Jason informed. "Kurt Cobain of Nirvana. We're talking music, remember?"
"Oh! Oh. Well, uh, from the way Kay was talking I thought he was someone close, that's all..."
Kay understood, though. "He was close to me, in a way. In my heart, at least. ...you never heard Nirvana before I played that song for you, right? And you don't know much of anything about rock music, period. Sooo... why Rocktopia? Why'd you jump to that idea for our arcade game?"
"Because I know you love rock and roll."
"Just... it's just rock. 'Rock and roll' is what our parents listened to. ...most of our parents," Kay clarified. "And you're seriously running with this just because of me?"
"It's clearly important to you! And... I can learn. I can learn how to rock," Iris insisted. "Maybe I should learn how to rock. I feel like I've got... I feel like there's gaping holes in what I should know about life. I mean, it's not exactly a big secret that my family is very sheltered..."
Jason snarked at the word. "Sheltered, as in buried in an underground bunker covered in five tons of lead sheeting with nothing but cans of baked beans to eat while waiting for the outside world to become socially acceptable. Metaphorically speaking, I mean."
"My point is that I want to know more and this feels like a great way to learn," Iris said, eager to move on from that little poke at her family. "A three-month crash course in rock and r... uh, in rock, I mean? Sure thing! Sign me up, ma'am!"
"Huh. Okay," Kay said, toying with the idea. "Guess I can be your teacher in the school of hard rock. Got any questions? Other than 'who is Kurt,' I mean."
Iris fiddled with a napkin, crinkling it a bit as she tried to ponder what to ask of her new professor. "Well... okay, uh... why smooth jazz?" she asked. "I was assuming you'd want the bad guys in the game to be a different genre, like... maybe rap or something?"
"Hip-hop. Rap is just one pillar of hip-hop culture," Kay pointed out.
"Okay, so hip-hop. Why not that?"
Kay thought it over, trying to figure out how to phrase it so a musical neophyte could grasp things. "Mmmm... doesn't feel right," she said. "For starters -- Run-D.M.C. and Aerosmith, Walk This Way, from 198X. Perfect mix of rock and hip-hop. They don't have to be opposing flavors, often they work just fine together. ...also, well... kinda terrible implications to demonize a largely African-American musical artform, right?"
"Oh! Ohh, jeez, yeah. Good point..."
"You'll have to forgive our Suburban Princess Iris," Jason joked. "She was raised in a bedroom community as white as a sheet."
"So we need a universally loathed musical form to be the bad guys, someone everyone can point to and go 'Yeah, that sucks,'" Kay said, to get out of that topic at full speed. "And that's gotta be smooth jazz, right? It's pure VH1, while we're trying to have our heroine be pure MTV. Adult contemporary instead of youth energy. Traditional jazz or hard bop like Miles Davis, that stuff's pretty incredible, but any modern jazz-pop involving pan flutes or alto sax that you could comfortably play in an elevator or a grocery store kinda blows."
"Soooo... the power of rock against smooth jazz aliens. And 'cause they're all alien robots made of up saxophones and clarinets and stuff, there's no blood and gore. I like it, I like it!"
"Mmmhmm. Think we've got a winning idea," Kay agreed. "Now we need to just, like, do the impossible and make a full-blown arcade game out of it. ...think we'd better get started on that. We got enough pizza in us? I'm ready to go."
"Ready and willing!" Iris said, raising her hand to join in. "Let's--"
"It's nearly two in the afternoon," Jason reminded her, quietly interrupting.
"--let's pick this up after I make my phone call," Iris mumbled, her energy trailing off to nothing as she slowly sat back down. "Maybe you and Jason can talk about the music techie stuff you need. Okay?"
"Okay, but--"
"See you soon!" Iris promised, up and out of her seat immediately after. Because if she was one minute late, there'd be hell to pay.
In the middle of the Twin Pines Mall, under a slight outcrop and sheltered from any summer rains (or summer sun, as was the case today) was a place to have a seat and smoke. Iris wasn't planning on taking up smoking any time soon, but it also conveniently had a small set of pay phones, which she absolutely needed in this moment.
Scrambling through her backpack to find her pocket change, she dug up a quarter from her arcade stash and slotted it. ...then re-slotted it when the janky phone rejected the coin. ...and again.
The fourth time, it took the coin, and she could hear that blessed dial tone. Punching in the memorized seven-digit number (no area code needed for local calls), she twirled the metal cord a little with her fingers, waiting for the rings to cease and that familiar voice to come on the line...
Click.
"Thompson residence," her mother's voice echoed down miles of copper wiring.
"Mom, hi! Just checking in," Iris said, relieved she'd managed to connect just before the clock hit the fated hour.
"Good, good. Punctual as always, it's a fine trait in a woman. I'm proud of you. So, having fun at the arcade today?"
"Oh, definitely! We've got big plans!"
"Plans? What plans, dear?"
And... Iris nibbled her lip. Not that she was planning on keeping the game a secret, exactly, since that would be impossible in the long run. But at least she could've avoided hinting at it until figuring out how to carefully explain the game's subject matter...
Still, the core concept was safe enough.
"Plans to make an arcade game," she said. "It's nothing big, just a fun summer project with my friends. Jason's handling all the complex stuff because he's smarter than me, and... my new friend Kay is doing the music. I'm doing the art."
"Really? That's wonderful news!" her mother's voice spoke, warmly. As warm as the cheap municipal communication service could allow, at any rate. "I know you enjoy making your little doodles. Seeing them in a real game should be a treat, yes?"
"Definitely a treat, yes," Iris repeated, because it's always best to re-use the words given to her. "Hey, uh, we're going to get started on the project today, so... would it be okay if I just have dinner here? I can visit Matt's pizzeria. You like Matt, right? He goes to church every Sunday, just like we do!"
"But what about the meatloaf I'm making? It's your favorite."
"We... we could do meatloaf another night?"
"Nonsense. I think tonight would be a grand night to celebrate your new project! You and your new friend should come along. Jason too, if you like! Plenty of meatloaf for everyone--"
"Ohhh, Jason's way too busy, I mean, he works for Miss Francine and stuff," Kay immediately said, knowing that another dinner with Jason would be a recipe for pure disaster. (He'd come so very, very close to busting out "God is dead" last time he'd joined a Thompson family dinner.)
"Kay, then. You and Kay should come and celebrate. And I won't take no for an answer, young lady," her mother presumably joked.
With a long sigh (after covering the mouthpiece with one hand) Iris forced herself to smile.
"...yes. Yes, mother," she agreed with practiced delight. "We'd be happy to come by for meatloaf!"
"It's your favorite."
"It's my favorite. Okay. Okay. I'll... get Kay and come on by as soon as I can."
"That's the spirit. Love you, dear. See you for dinner."
Click.
Slowly, young Iris hung the plastic receiver on its hook. With the call complete, her coin rattled its way down the mechanics inside the phone, to its final resting place.
It took two full minutes of pondering her next move before she dared to return to the Funplex.
"...seriously?"
"Seriously," Jason said, trying to emphasize the seriousness of his seriousness. "I think we gotta do it. An LLC would let us legit earn some money off this game once it's done, without having tax problems or ownership disputes or anything. And your name's gotta be on the paperwork alongside ours."
"Jason, this is an impromptu summer hobby project, not a business."
"It's--"
And Iris cleared her throat, to get their attention. In the relative quiet of the Funplex's workroom, compared to the noisy arcade beyond those doors, the simple act of lightly coughing to prepare your words was enough to be heard and noticed.
"Kay, umm... can I talk to you?" she said.
Her new friend glanced up, brushing her long bangs from her eyes as she did so.
"Yeah, sure. What's up?"
"In private, if it's okay?" Iris suggested. "Maybe the Employee's Only break room...? Miss Francine won't mind."
The implication being that Jason wasn't to be a part of this. A fact Kay certainly picked up on -- but Jason seemed to shrug it off.
"Sure... whatever, okay. You two have fun," he said, waving them off. "I should go call my uncle, see about getting some legal paperwork drawn up. If a thing's worth doing--"
"--worth doing right, yes, thank you, got it," Kay finished, getting the idea. She slid off her chair, walking over to join Iris...
...and as they crossed the back hallway into the spartan break room, furnished only with a cheap couch and cheaper table and a cheaply printed Penguin There, Baby! poster, she decided to speak up about it.
"What's going on?" Kay asked, sounding more serious than her flippant response earlier. "Something wrong?"
"What? No, no. Nothing's wrong," Iris said, trying to laugh it off.
"You're smiling a lot right now."
"Because things are great! My mom's invited you over to dinner. We're having meatloaf! It's my favorite. We can head over there now, maybe play some video games, hang out a little before we eat...? Wouldn't that be fun? I mean I don't have any recent video games, I've just got an old Nintendo with some Wisdom Tree bible games, but... it'll be great, I promise!"
"Mmmmm... oookay..." Kay said, clearly not buying it. "And you couldn't tell Jason this because...?"
"Well, because... umm... he's busy and I didn't want to distract him."
"Uh-huh. Okay."
Standing there, Kay let Iris smile away, studying the young woman with a concerned sort of curiosity.
It'd be easy to let this slide. Go with the flow, head off to dinner, not really think too hard about it. Not cause trouble, not stir things up. Despite her rebel rocker motif Kay wasn't the sort to rock anyone's boat, not when she could quietly sit in the background and let them get on with their lives. Not her style...
But this time? This time, she'd give the boat a gentle push.
"I think I get it," Kay said, putting her thoughts in a neat little row.
"Great! So, we'll have to ride the subway up town, but I can pay for your return fare, no problem--"
"You don't have to worry about me. I won't tell your mom I'm gay."
"!!!!?!!?!" Iris exclaimed.
"I'm guessing the last time you invited Jason over it was a flaming disaster, right?" Kay said, putting the pieces neatly together. "He speaks his mind and doesn't really care who it offends. But that's not me. Your mother... your family is very traditional, very controlling. Don't think I haven't picked up on that. But I'm not Jason. I won't put you in a bad spot by offending them. I'll... sit there, smile, and eat my meatloaf. You'll be okay. Promise."
And instantly, Iris broke a little inside.
It was perfect, of course -- an understanding partner in crime, one who wouldn't ruin the evening or shatter the conventions of social niceties. Kay was understanding and compassionate, and willing to make that sacrifice in Iris's behalf. She was willing to stay quiet. Just like she was willing to leave the Funplex when the Susans told her to leave, not wanting to cause trouble, not wanting to confront or stand...
And here Iris was, insisting she hide who she was, that she play along in the way Iris had to play along her whole life. Asking her to force a smile.
Leaving Iris as the one in tears, when she was worried about her new friend being the one to cry at being asked to do such a horrible thing.
"Whoa, whoa...!" Kay said, leaning in to support Iris, who seemed to be wobbling on her feet. "What? What's wrong? It's okay, I get it, I know how things are. I can play along--"
"You shouldn't have to!!"
Kay almost let go, as Iris blurted it out loudly enough to likely be heard across the hall. Iris righted her balance, standing a bit more firmly after.
"It's awful, okay? It's just awful! And I'm awful for even thinking about asking you to do that, or just... just not telling you and trying to skirt around it, like I was planning to do," Iris admitted. "You don't. You just... you don't say things like that. You don't tell your friends they're not allowed to be who they are..."
"Right, tell that to society at large," Kay grumbled.
And when that failed to soothe Iris's despair, Kay stepped it back a little from that mutter of disappointment and anger.
"My point is... look," she continued, trying to fix this. "My point is I'm used to hiding. Don't ask don't tell, right? And it's not like it even has to come up over polite dinner conversation. You're not asking any more than what's been asked of me before--"
"Shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to..."
"Actually, know what? You don't even have to ask, because I'm straight up offering," Kay emphasized. "Okay? This is me, deciding to support my friend and not make her life any harder. We'll get through this, I promise. Together. Okay...?"
Her fingers found Iris's, squeezing her hand tightly for reassurance. Trying to show through physical gesture that there was understanding and compassion here, not defeat.
Finally... the waterworks subsided, as Iris forced them back. But she wouldn't force a smile over this, even if she could force the tears to stop.
Because she had one more horrible request.
"If you really want to help..." she said, quietly. "I mean, really really want to make this go smoothly..."
"Just name it. I'm cool."
"...we need to visit the Boring Clothing Store before we leave," Iris said, with a long sigh. "I'm so sorry about this, but... you need a makeover."
Twin Pines Mall was not a hot and happening place in the late afternoon on a weekday. Honestly, it wasn't hot or happening any other time of week, either -- but in this particular window, this particular place, Iris and Kay represented the only patrons of the Boring Clothing Store.
This unfortunately-named fashion outlet, owned and operated by the Boring family, specialized in the kind of mayo-on-white-bread approach to style that would ensure a smooth and comfortable family dinner experience for Kay later that evening. There wasn't a single stitch of controversy anywhere in this sea of off-white and beige apparel. Tumble head-first into any of these racks and you'd emerge looking like an IRS investigator, or perhaps the assistant manager of a regional department of motor vehicles. Exactly the right vibe for a grunge rock queen to evade detection by The Normals.
While Iris waited patiently on the other side of a dressing stall door, Kay tried on these scratchy woolen garments with varying amounts of disgust.
"I look like a flooring inspector," Kay grumbled, muffled very slightly by the cheap wooden door.
"That's what we're hoping for, so think of it like a roaring success," Iris suggested, not even looking at the closed door to avoid any sense of impropriety despite holding a conversation in a dressing room. "Trust me, this will work great!"
"Don't think I've worn a sweater since I was a kid. And who wears sweaters in the summer...?"
"People wear sweaters all the time at my church. I think they're cozy and comfy, myself."
"I take it that's why we're doing this?"
"Hmmm?"
Kay peeked over the top of the stall, feeling weird about simply talking through a door. Just fingers and eyes and those hanging bangs of hers, very Kilroy-Was-Here style.
"Why we're disguising me as something I'm not," she said. "So I fly under your mom's gaydar. Because of the whole church thing, I mean. Guessing the big book doesn't approve of me."
Iris shifted uncomfortably on her uncomfortable chair, avoiding that downward gaze from above.
"It's... well... it's complicated," Iris claimed, trying to find the right words to prove that claim. "I mean, yeah, there's the church, but... Mom's more concerned about how it's... I don't want to say political, but... maybe political?"
"So... she's a political homophobe?"
"Homophobe--? No no, she's not afraid of gay people at all!" Iris protested. "She just thinks that activist celebrities and the media culture that support them are spreading unsound ideas to the youth of the nation which could lead to dangerous behaviors and thus the downfall of American society! ... ...and now that I say that aloud it, umm, kind of sounds way worse than it sounded in my head..."
With a shrug, Kay ducked back down into the changing booth, to finish her task at de-gayifying herself.
"I get it. I mean, I don't agree with it obviously, but I get it. Like how those girls from my neighborhood kept calling me Melissa Ethridge and stuff," she replied, amidst ruffling cotton and wool. "They don't actually know anything at all about The Gay Stuff so they go with the only obvious public touchstone they have, major celebs who came out of the closet..."
"I... yeah. I guess."
"But you don't agree with your mommy on this one, right?"
"N-no! Of course not!!" Iris declared, adding an extra exclamation mark to ensure she was believed. "I don't. ...I... know the 'big book' has some issues with LGBT -- I know about that term, 'LGBT,' Jason explained it all to me -- but I don't have any issues with them. With you. I just... I have to keep the peace with a family that does. I'm. I'm sorry, I mean, I know this is asking a lot--"
"I agreed to help, and I meant it. Last thing I want is to make your life any worse," Kay spoke. "Okay... okay, I think I'm done here. Ready to judge my efforts?"
Iris got to her feet, stepping away to watch the Grand Reveal...
...and someone other than Kay stepped out.
It was still undeniably Kay, of course. That loose mop of hair certainly wasn't a style Iris would see around her family gatherings. But the rest was wildly different.
Instead of the cheap and tomboyish style that Kay normally wore, concert T-shirts and flannel and ratty old denim, she'd donned a proper beige button-down blouse with a pink sweater vest on top. Two layers: one classy, one cozy. The skirt also fell into the cozy category, going properly knee-length and having plenty of pleated layering to barely hint at the merest suggestion of anything resembling racy possibilities beyond the deep scandal of ankle reveals.
Instead of the nice sensible shoes Iris suggested, she stuck to her sneakers -- the one concession, given she had to walk through city streets and subways and didn't want to wobble around on anything resembling a heel. And, as Iris's eyes were drawn down...
"Wait, wait," she said, halting the evaluation. "Kay, you... you don't shave your legs?!"
"Uh. No, I don't. Why would I?" Kay asked, tugging the skirt up a bit to stick out one leg and examine it. "I wear jeans, Iris. I don't think I've worn a skirt in ages,..."
"Okay. Okay, we can fix this," Iris declared. "Just need, like... pantyhose or stockings or tights or something..."
Kay groaned, rolling her head back. "Fine, fine. Whatever it takes to make this happen. Gonna feel weird, but okay."
"S-Sorry..."
"Hey. Hey, whoa. You don't have to keep apologizing, Iris. You aren't responsible for the problem we're facing," Kay assured her friend.
"...it's my family. It's my mother causing this situation..."
"But under any other circumstance, I know you'd be okay with me being who I am. That goes a long way, y'know?" Kay spoke... offering up a smile, a rare Kay smile, given her normally quiet and inexpressive nature. "How about this, if it'll make you feel better -- we do a trade."
"A... trade?"
"In return for wearing this silly getup and going to dinner at your place... you have to come to my place for dinner," she suggested. "And you don't have to dress up or anything; my mom won't care. Come as you are. Sound good?"
Hardly an even trade. A fair exchange would be something that inconvenienced Iris, made her have to hide away a part of herself...
But that's not who Kay was. Kay wouldn't make Iris jump through that particular hoop. She wanted to offer something positive in return, a counter-offer for a more friendly and inviting family dinner. Weighing it the other direction, rather than demanding a toll be paid.
It was an offer Iris could accept gladly.
"O... okay. I'd be happy to g-go out to dinner with you. You and your mom," she added, quickly.
"Yyyyeah, we can't really afford anything fancy. I'm thinking takeout at my apartment or something simple like that. But one thing at a time, right? Gotta meet your folks first. So. Pantyhose?"
"R-Right! First things first. And... other things later," Iris agreed.
Finishing off Kay's disguise took only a few more minutes, although Iris insisted on adding a hair ribbon -- making Kay feel a bit like a wrapped piece of candy, but with Iris insisting all the while it made her look "cute." (It also conveniently reshaped her hair into something a bit less obviously modern.)
With the task complete, next stop was the subway, to ride from mid-town to uptown.
Kay had never gone that far into the city before. These tunnels underneath the swarms of yellow taxis above lead all over her metropolis, crossing through neighborhoods and entire insular little cultures without the riders even aware as they cruised through the dark... but there was an unusual feeling of not belonging, as the other passengers became more and more fashionable, more upscale, while the train went deeper and deeper into the uptown area.
By the time those doors opened at the last stop, they were exiting alongside a cloud of businessmen and professional shoppers and likely one or two city council representatives.
And once they got topside...? Clean streets. No obvious graffiti anywhere. Plenty of major-brand fashion outlets, places Kay would never even consider visiting. Dumpsters politely pushed out of sight. No homeless people -- or likely they were hiding, staying away from anywhere they could be ratted out and chased away. It still smelled vaguely like the city she knew and still soaked itself in a soundscape of car horns and wind whistling between buildings, but the rest of the experience was vaguely... pleasant? More or less vaguely pleasant.
So caught up in the sights and sounds that almost bumped directly into Iris, when she stopped in front of her residence -- Mitchell Tower.
Bought up by a wealthy young businessman who built his legacy on the back of early 198X arcade glory, this ostentatious pillar of wealth and prestige served up high-priced condos to executives and CEOs and other moneyed individuals seeking their glory in the city. Like a golden filing cabinet for only the finest paperwork, the kind with ornate frilly edges on every page...
The doorman recognized Iris immediately, and because he recognized Iris, that meant Kay got a free pass. Being dressed identically to the sorts of people who traipsed in an out of the place probably helped, too.
One elevator ride up to a floor somewhere at the 2/3rds mark of the tower, and they finally stood before the door of destiny -- the Thompson family condo.
Kay fidgeted, uncomfortable in her cozy woolen vest and really hoping she hadn't somehow soaked the thing completely in sweat from the summer weather.
Her anticipation of doom was only settled in the slightest sense of the word by her friend's reassurances.
"You're going to do fine," Iris whispered, as they awaited this moment. "Deep breaths. It'll be fine..."
Key in the lock, and turn. Door knob twisted. And entering...
...well. Actually a fairly friendly and inviting home, to be honest. It reminded Kay a lot of her grandmother's house, all classically-styled and not particularly trendy at all. Everything nice and perfect and dust-free, right down to the weird wall art of fancy dishes with flowers painted on them. (Kay never quite got why those things were popular with the older set.)
As for the dreaded nightmare entity Mrs. Thompson herself...?
Aside from wearing pearls around the house, she seemed perfectly normal and friendly. Upon arrival, she emerged from her living room to greet them properly.
"Hello! Welcome to our home," the woman spoke, smooth and perfect like a TV announcer. "You must be Kay Lang, yes? Welcome, welcome. I hope you feel comfortable here!"
Kay paused for a brief moment, trying to recall the exact series of motions Iris had taught her to perform a "curtsy."
"Thank you for inviting me to your home, Mrs. Thompson," she spoke, polite as can be.
"Why, how gracious! But really, I'm the one who should be a gracious host -- you're our guest, and I'm here to provide for you," the woman replied (while quietly nodding in approval at the gesture). "Iris, dinner will be in a little over an hour. I've made you and your friend some cheese and crackers to enjoy in the meanwhile..."
And she gestured to an absolutely immaculate platter of delectably crisp crackers, with a small but perfectly selected array for artisanal cheeses to pick from. A dainty cheese knife had been placed in an aesthetically pleasing diagonal across the tray.
"You may enjoy these in your room while I finish preparation for dinner," her mother informed them. "I know you both enjoy video games -- please, by all means, have some fun while I tidy up and make everything presentable. Okay?"
"Thank you, mom. That's very considerate of you!" Iris replied, smiling widely as she accepted the tray (and the invitation to make herself scarce).
With cheesy snacks in one hand and Kay's sleeve in the other, she hurried off down the hallway to her bedroom retreat.
Only once the door was closed (or rather, closed most of the way with the agreed-upon six inch gap available) did Iris breathe easier.
"...she doesn't seem that bad," Kay commented, as they entered the largely pink-and-white room. "Kinda formal, but..."
"We got off easy," Iris spoke, leaning heavily against the wall and keeping her voice low enough not to be heard over the light clatter and clamor of their family kitchen. "I think she's holding off the full interrogation for dinnertime itself. This is the calm before the storm..."
Kay tried to offer assurance -- despite being the bug that would be under the magnifying glass in the end, clearly she wasn't the one riding high on actual anxiety. "Hey, don't assume the worst," she said. "I've got a good feeling about this. If we stick to the plan, playing it safe and friendly, everything should be cool. It's not like we're brokering a peace treaty, it's just a dinner."
"I thought the same when I brought Jason home to meet the folks. I had to broker an actual peace treaty by the end of the night, after how offended they were."
"Okay, but that's not me. I know when to shut up. ...speaking of, let's shut up before anyone overhears, 'kay?" Kay suggested... reaching over to the cheese spread to spread herself some cheese. "Sooo... video games?"
With a sigh, Iris nodded towards the small television and attached Nintendo Entertainment System, with a small stack of oddly-shaped non-standard cartridges.
"All I have are bible games," she said. "They're honestly not very good. The pixel art is awful and the gameplay is buggy..."
"Well, we've got an hour to kill. Got a better suggestion for what to do with it?"
And Iris eyed her backpack, dropped by the door and forgotten. She knelt down to retrieve her sketchbook, sitting on the bed next to her friend as she flipped it open to a fresh page of graph paper.
"How about we sketch up ideas for the game?" Iris suggested. "Do something useful with the time. Something fun, something positive. Jason would probably insist on it, anyway. 'We only have three months, Iris. Quit wasting time and get to work!'"
Kay nodded along between bites of cheesy-cracker combo. "Art gets your mind off your worries. I get it. Music does the same for me."
The colored pencil hovered over that blank page, as Iris drew in a deep breath.
"Yeah... it does. It really does," she agreed. "Whenever I feel... cornered, nervous, upset... this is how I relax. I just doodle. Start filling in boxes, giving something a shape. Eventually I forget about whatever was bothering me..."
"Gonna need to confront it eventually, though."
"Uhh..."
"Because dinner's in an hour, yeah?" Kay added, to be more specific. "But sure, we can sketch for an hour. Okay. Talk to me. Rocktopia. Whaddya got in mind? Maybe we draw Madame Mayor? Should start with the player character, right?"
Briefly, Iris saw the shape in her mind on that blank page, dot after dot plotted across the graph paper... but shook her head.
"I'm... still deciding what to do there," she lied. "How about we draft up some of the Smooth Jazz Aliens? They'll be fun to make! They're all, like, robots made out of band instruments, right?"
And so it went, using tracing paper to lay down basic outlines of monsters made out of oboes and clarinets, then filling in the squares to give them shape. An hour passed by as easily as breathing, the two of them falling perfectly in sync -- Kay offering suggestions, Iris translating idea into art.
This is what Iris wanted, more than anything else. When she woke up today with a song in her heart and sunlight pouring through her window, she'd dedicated herself to having this time with her new friend -- the two of them relishing in creativity together, sharing ideas, exploring. More than anything else, this is what Iris was hoping for.
Having to plow through a family dinner scenario, that hindered her plans. Gave her a whole pile of worries she didn't want, alongside the time with Kay she actually sought.
But at least this one respite, this single moment, was theirs and theirs alone. Just the two of them in their own world of music and arcade excitement, unaware of anything else...
Until a knock sounded at the not-entirely-closed door.
Mrs. Thompson, smiling and waiting.
"Dinner is on the table, girls," she announced.
And that was that. The end of good times, and the beginning of something else entirely.
Seating arrangements were precise and exact, and laid out as follows:
At the head of the table sat the man of the household, as it should be. Kay hadn't seen Mr. Thompson himself before that point; if he was even in the condo he'd been keeping to himself. Still wearing his business shirt and tie and slacks from a hard day at the office, as well as a watch that probably cost more than three months rent on Kay's apartment. Beyond that, there was nothing noteworthy about him at all; a neutral expression spread across fairly generic features, topped off with a receding hairline.
Directly to his right sat Mrs. Thompson, wearing a comfortable sweater vest combo similar to Kay's, but with pearls dangling around her neck and from one wrist. She smiled and smiled, compared to her stoic and uninterested husband. Her forks and spoons seemed laid out even more precisely and evenly than any other place-setting at the table.
Across from Mrs. Thompson sat Iris, in opposition to her mother. Smiling and smiling, but definitely not the comfortable and relaxed expression sitting across from her -- a forced smile.
And to finish off the ensemble, Kay sat on the fourth side of the small table, with the older woman and her teenage friend to either side. Pinned between them. Despite the father of the household being directly across from her, he didn't really feel like much of a factor compared to having those two women immediately to her left and right.
In the center of this four-way dance? A succulent meatloaf, as well as an array of sides such as steamed veggies and mashed potatoes. Safe and simple food, not particularly high-end, but clearly made from freshly-purchased ingredients without the use of a microwave dinner hobby kit like the sort Kay normally devoured back home.
And... now they were in uncharted territory. Back home, Kay would just grab her serving immediately after sitting down and start eating. But she was guessing that protocol didn't fly here, so she simply sat in silence, waiting...
Much to her surprise, Iris reached out and took her hand. And then Mrs. Thompson took the other. Before Kay could object or ask what was going on, all four of them formed a circle, holding hands.
At last, the man of the house spoke up, his first words aside from an obligatory "Hmh, good evening" he'd offered when they first met moments ago.
"Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, amen," he rattled off, in a simple monotone.
Ahhh. Ritual, Kay recognized. Not something her family did before meals, but she recalled various aunts and uncles insisting on saying grace before meals. Simple enough to get through, no big deal...
Except when she tried to pull her hand away so they could begin the meal, Iris kept holding tight. Apparently there were more steps to get through.
In contrast, Mrs. Thompson's part of the prayer wasn't a perfunctory announcement. She put some real zest into it, sounding more heartfelt and less routine.
"Thank you O Lord for the pleasures of this day, thank you for my daughter's continued happiness, may she and her friend be blessed in their endeavors," the woman of the house spoke. "And thank you for bringing her to our table..."
And still those fingers holding tight to hers. Kay starting to feel weirdly stretched, as her hands were held up in the air, the prayer going on and on.
"May You continue to lead our promising youth down the correct path in life, towards prosperity and happiness, and allow this great nation to embrace Your truths," she continued. "May they be led not into temptation by those who seek to poison our youth within this wicked culture..."
The meatloaf in the center began to cool as she continued.
On she went, railing against evil and praising good. After a point Kay just sorta... tuned it out. Simply exchanging glances with Iris, confused.
And for her part... Iris was internally wincing at every word. A longer prayer than they usually had, certainly. A performance, to impress her new friend. After the disaster-dinner that was the Jason Takeshi Experience, likely her mom wanted to set a proper tone from the outset.
By the time the whole thing wound down to a halt, the mashed potatoes had started to congeal, untouched and unloved.
"...forever and ever, amen," Mrs. Thompson concluded.
"Amen," Iris agreed, for other reasons.
"Uh, amen," Kay added, feeling obliged.
And finally, finally the food was distributed. They could actually start to get through the meal and onward to finishing the evening. Kay shook her hand a little to get some feeling into it, after Iris nearly pulled her fingers off through that nervous clasp.
(They'd held hands before, back when Iris broke down at the Funplex earlier that day, bubbling over with apologies for what lie ahead. But not this intensely.)
Kay got maybe two bites in before the fun began.
"So..." Mrs. Thompson spoke, only poking at her meal with a fork lightly, focus entirely on the new girl.
"Um?" Kay mumbled, around a forkful of meatloaf.
"So, tell me about yourself," the woman spoke. "Iris mentioned you're making a video game, yes? And you're doing the music?"
Pausing to chew and swallow as quickly as possible, before responding. "Yes'm," Kay said. "That's the idea. Jason does code, Iris does art, I do music."
"Ahhh... Jason," Mrs. Thompson spoke, her simple formality and friendliness cracking ever-so-slightly at the name. "A very... high-spirited boy. But such is youth, yes? Full of spirit and energy. I'm sure he'll settle down one day, once he meets the right girl and starts a family of his own..."
(Except... Jason was an aromantic asexual. He pretty explicitly explained it earlier, how he had absolutely no interest in relationships or any funny business. Not that Mrs. Thompson would care, most likely.)
"Working with him must be a bit tiring, but I'm sure you'll do just fine," the mother assured Kay, as if trying to console someone who just lost a member of the family. "And it's good to hear my daughter is finding a strong outlet for her creative impulses! She does love to draw, don't you, Iris?"
"I love to draw," Iris replied, quickly.
"And you, Kay -- what instrument do you play? I'd assume piano...?" Mrs. Thompson speculated. "Or are you in band at school, perhaps playing violin or oboe...?"
"Uh... guitar," Kay said, without specifying the electric component. "I play guitar."
"Ahh, how fascinating! There's a handsome young man at our church who plays songs for us on guitar. Perhaps I could introduce you two?"
"Oh, uh, you don't have to--"
"Nonsense, I'd be happy to. Having the right connections in life can take you very far! My husband Herbert, he actually knows the young gentleman who owns this building -- it's how we got such a wonderful price on our new home, when we had to move here. Isn't that right, Herbert?"
The man grunted an affirmative, focused on enjoying his food. Lucky him.
"That's also how Iris is getting into a rather impressive university, after she graduates from school," the woman continued. "From there she'll get an education degree so she can homeschool her children, and well... sky's the limit, after that! We've worked hard to build a future for our darling girl, isn't that right, Iris?"
"Very hard, yes," Iris lifelessly replied.
"So Kay, where will you be going to college?"
"--uh?" Kay spoke, the question throwing her momentarily. "Oh, I'm not going to college. Can't afford it."
If the meatloaf hadn't completely cooled off during the lengthy blessing earlier, it would've frozen solid as the table suddenly turned... chilly.
It didn't feel like a social mis-step to Kay. She'd told the truth, simple and plain, an inoffensive truth. And yet, the Thompson family reacted as if she'd lobbed a hand grenade into the mashed potatoes. Even Iris was a little flabbergasted, not believing Kay had stepped into that particular trap...
"Um... I mean... maybe I'll go to college?" Kay tried correct.
Mrs. Thompson politely dabbed at her lips with a napkin, before leaning closer, trying to get more heart-to-heart despite sitting at arm's length.
"I'm so sorry, Kay dear, to hear about your... financial difficulties," she spoke. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."
"Not uncomfortable, ma'am. It's fine."
"But it's so unfortunate, hearing that you can't secure your future in the same way we've secured it for Iris. Surely there are options, yes...? You do want to get a proper education and a good job, yes?"
And Kay, who had assumed her future probably held the phrase "Do you want fries with that" nodded mutely.
"Well! The answer is to seek fiscal assistance, of course," Mrs. Thompson declared, leaning back and speaking with some pride at having instantly solved all of Kay's problems. "My Herbert works for a major financial institution. I'm sure we could pull some strings, get you set up with a series of student loans so you can go somewhere nice and study classical music. Isn't that right, Herbert?"
"Hmmh," the man grunted.
Visions of drowning in debt swarmed Kay's mind, at the thought of that. Either grinding a dull nine-to-five to avoid being locked forever in servitude to the bank, or pulling the long hours her mother had to endure to provide. Neither appealed, but... it wasn't like she'd considered any options. Or any sort of future whatsoever, beyond surviving day to day...
But she couldn't exactly lay those worries out at a formalized family dinner. Especially not with Mrs. Thompson so very, very eager to be a problem solver and likely control Kay's life the way she controlled Iris's. The game plan was to agree with everything said, provide no resistance, glide through this little encounter with a minimum of social stress.
Kay was used to agreeing with people who demanded she change her life, anyway. Nothing new under the sun.
But before she could mumble out a Maybe or an Okay or a That's Very Nice Of You to the idea of getting saddled with student loans, Iris was quicker to the trigger.
"It isn't a bad thing not to have your whole life planned out," she spoke aloud.
It wasn't directed at her mother. Or at anyone, really. Just sort of... put out there for the universe as a whole, a little token protest. Not meant to be confrontational, but certainly not a statement of harmony...
But it was enough. Enough for her mother to take it as a direct attack.
Mrs. Thompson's dinner continued to cool, neglected and ignored, as her focus shifted from Kay to firmly staring across the table at her daughter.
"I'm... sorry? Not a bad thing...?" the woman asked, curious if she'd heard that correctly.
Iris, realizing she'd made a huge error, stammered briefly -- attempting a backpedal.
"I, I mean, it's not..." she attempted. "It's just... it's not the end of the world, some people don't have a plan and just follow where their spirit leads them, and that's okay...?"
And her mother would have none of it.
"Nonsense," Mrs. Thompson declared. "There was a plan in place for my life, and my mother before me. I recognized the wisdom of my elders. We wouldn't be where we are now, with good food on the table and this lovely home, if not for that. ...far too many in my day were aimless vagabonds, hippies, rejecting the way things should be. I doubt your friend wants to be a hippie, isn't that right, Kay?"
The sheer pressure from that side of the table threatened to knock her right out of her chair.
"No ma'am. Not a hippie," the young rocker claimed.
"Of course not. Because you're sensible," Mrs. Thompson agreed, evaluating Kay's sensible clothes and coming to the only sensible conclusion. "God has a plan for us all. Perhaps yours is unclear, but I've no doubt you'll make the right choices in the end. Just as Iris has done, isn't that right, Iris?"
Iris, who had no choices whatsoever, settled down after her accidental outburst.
"Yes'm. Making the right choices," she parroted.
Her eyes drifted down to her partially-eaten meal, selected for her, prepared for her.
Iris wanted to scream.
She wanted so desperately to scream, to cry out, even to flip the table and hurl meatloaf and potatoes across the room. But the possibility wasn't actually there -- no universe existed where she could do something so brash, where she could protest and throw a fit and really say what she felt. No matter how much her spirit cried out in desperation, it had no place here. The plan, Iris's plan, was to get through this dinner with her social safety net intact and no conflict to smooth out. She couldn't be the one to pull the trigger.
In a way, she wished Jason was here.
Ohhh, what a glorious mess that dinner had been. He'd nearly been thrown out of the house, leaving behind a complete disaster that Iris struggled to fix for days after. Dealing with the fallout certainly wasn't fun, but... watching him step right up to her mother's cheerful goading and deliver a few verbal counterpunches... maybe that was a little fun. Just a little.
Kay wouldn't do that, of course. Kay was like Iris; neither of them wanted trouble. All their life they'd been avoiding trouble, trying not to get hammered down by forces in this world that hated what they were. Tonight was not going to be the exception to the rule. Tonight they'd both stay quiet and agreeable. As good girls should.
At least there was one comfort -- her father.
"Glad that's settled," the man rumbled, as he gathered up another forkful of potatoes. "If we could finish, please...? Got work to do tonight."
And that was that. They would eat in relative silence, aside from the occasional rambling story from her mother's side of the table that they could nod along to. Nothing nearly as traumatic, nothing nearly as intimidating. Just social niceties until it was time to pull the ripcord and bail on this entire social situation.
Rather than accept the offer to stick around for dessert and conversation, Kay informed the Thompson family that she has a long subway journey ahead of her and really had to get home. With her status as one of The Unfortunate Poor firmly established, there was no denying her request to run for her life. It'd be impolite to deny the downtown girl her right to a safe journey.
Iris escorted Kay out the door and down the condo building elevator. They rode largely in silence, taking this moment to breathe deeply in a space increasingly far away from Mrs. Thompson.
But before Kay departed through the front door... she turned to face Iris.
And crushed her in a big, fluffy hug. Made fluffier by the sweater vest.
"No apologies, no bad feelings, okay?" Kay insisted, while holding on tight to the increasingly blushy rich girl. "Tonight sucked but you're not at fault. We both know who's really at fault. And we got through it, didn't we?"
"Y... yeah. We got through it, together," Iris said, letting herself be hugged.
Finally, Kay released her... and flashed a rare Kay-smile. A genuine one.
"See you tomorrow at the Funplex for more Rocktopia?" she suggested.
"Y-yes! Absolutely," Iris agreed, brightening for the first time in hours. "I'd love that. Thank you."
A few simpler parting words, and Kay was out the door. When next they met, she'd be back to her comfortable thrift store clothes, they'd be safely surrounded by Miss Francine's dreamland, and everything would be good again...
But until that wonderful summer could resume... Iris had to go back upstairs. Back to her family, to the home that wasn't much of a home compared to the Funplex. Endure one more evening as someone she wasn't.
Defeated -- for the moment -- she returned to the elevator, and to the enforced tranquility of the Thompson homestead.
Joined the Rainbow Room.
PanPiper: point is he's a neoliberal piece of trash and can't rely on him to legalize gay marriage
xXxFroglordxXx: could be worse, we could be facing a second term of mr. thousand points of light
PanPiper: at least then we'd have a clear enemy
ThePizzaLord: Okay, let's dial back any "the president is an enemy" rhetoric, we don't want this legitimate discussion shut down.
PanPiper: sorry matt
ThePizzaLord: No real names. It's a safety issue.
DooBi13: legalizing is just a matter of time, bet you it happens early in the 21st century
DooBi13: i know were sick of being told to be patient but my point is lgbt rights are inevitabilities
PanPiper: i dont trust that well just eventually be free to love who we love :(
SunshineGirl4: hey ummm
ThePizzaLord: Oh, hey! Everyone, this is my RL friend, SunshineGirl4. Welcome to the discussion!
PanPiper: hi there, welcome to the unofficial lgbt room
SunshineGirl4: pizza lord can we talk
ThePizzaLord: Sure thing, SunshineGirl.
Private instant message opened.
ThePizzaLord: What's up, Iris?
SunshineGirl4: had a bad evening
SunshineGirl4: mom invited kay over t dinnner
SunshineGirl4: we got through it but i feel awful and she said not to feel awful but i feel awful anyway i hate this i just want to be me and let her be her
SunshineGirl4: matt?
ThePizzaLord: Yes, sorry, got distracted moderating the Rainbow Room briefly.
SunshineGirl4: if this is a bad time its ok
ThePizzaLord: No, no. I promised to make time for you, and I will.
ThePizzaLord: I'm sorry to hear about what happened. How about I make you two an ultra-supreme pizza tomorrow? Drown your sorrows in cheese!
SunshineGirl4: matt
SunshineGirl4: how do you do it
ThePizzaLord: How do I make pizza? Crack jokes to liven up a room?
SunshineGirl4: how do you be gay and still go to church
SunshineGirl4: mom says God has a plan for everyone and a girl can't love a girl that's not part of the plan
SunshineGirl4: but you're gay and you're religious and i want to knowhow that works i want to know how to do that
ThePizzaLord: Ahhh. I see.
ThePizzaLord: Iris, there are as many different flavors of church as there are flavors of pizza. You know your church isn't the only one out there, yes?
ThePizzaLord: It's all the same book but there are so many ways to interpret it. My faith takes those passages into a more historical context rather than a literal one.
ThePizzaLord: We were ordaining women in the eighties, and only recently ordained a gay man. Sure, we lost a portion of our flock after that, but the ones who stayed kept the faith and accepted that we are who we are.
ThePizzaLord: I'm gay, and in my eyes, that's God's plan for me. I'm happy with who I am and my community accepts me for who I am. It doesn't have to be the way it is with your family.
ThePizzaLord: Would you like to come to my church on Sunday? Maybe talk with some people?
SunshineGirl4: i
SunshineGirl4: i can't she won't let me
ThePizzaLord: Sorry to hear that. But you ever need to talk with me, you know where I can be found.
ThePizzaLord: On a different subject, how is Kay doing after tonight?
SunshineGirl4: she says its ok, that everythings ok, but im still scared I hurt her :(
SunshineGirl4: i know we just met but shes so wonderful and i want this summer with her to be wonderful too and im scared things like this will keep happening to ruin that i just want to be withher and and
SunshineGirl4: and matt
ThePizzaLord: Yes?
SunshineGirl4: I HATE MEATLOAF.
Deep into the night, long after she was supposed to be asleep, Iris was signing off from America On-line. Quietly powering down her computer, and sneaking back into bed.
After twenty minutes of being unable to sleep, tossing and turning... she turned to the one thing that got her through these moments where she felt anxious and cornered.
Art.
A small flashlight, carefully propped up on a nearby stack of books, would do the job. She could sit up in bed with the sketchbook in her lap, and draw.
I may hate meatloaf, she thought, but I know what I truly love. I know who I love.
With pencil on paper, she began to sketch out Madame Mayor of Rocktopia. Paying careful attention to that loose mop of bangs dangling above her eyes, and to her rare-but-wonderful smile.
(Copyright 2022 Stefan Gagne and Fiction Factory Games. This is a work of fiction. All references to trademarked classic arcade game titles are used under nominative fair use and should not be considered an endorsement by their publishers or creators.)