“You are not to close the doors of this theater until eight o’ clock, is that clear?” My boss’ warning tone reverberated in my head as I started to shut off the projectors one room at a time.
“Screw him.” I thought to myself, picking up the pace and eating a stale pack of Twizzlers. The dark corners of the dimly-lit theater lobby created shadows in the glow of the bright red exit signs. It wasn’t just spite that drove me to close the theater early. There was literally NOBODY here. Why would anyone visit in the middle of a pandemic, anyway?
I took a deep breath and braced myself for the hardest job of the evening, before heading over to the register to count the till.
“Fourteen whooole dollars.” I said, to nobody in particular. “I’m really glad I didn’t lose count.”
If you’re wondering, yes. I do talk to myself from time-to-time. What else could I do around here? I barely got reception in the lobby. I’m not going to go outside into the late December air just to shitpost on Twitter. Not only that, a storm was reported to be blowing in within the hour. Weathermen are never exact, I’ve learned.
I stretched and exhaled loudly, heading over to the old-fashioned clock-in machine and turning the switch on the side until the time said 8:13, and sliding my timecard in for a stamp. I didn’t use it to give myself more hours. I just wanted it to look like I had closed at eight. I’m not that shitty.
I was pulling on my coat and headed for the entrance gate to the theatre to close down the big metal gate when a noise caught my attention.
The thing is, my mall is dead.
Not just in that it had no customers. The mall is failing. There’s two open stores, an arcade that seems to lose machines every month, and the movie theatre. But as I stepped outside of the theater, I definitely heard something that wasn’t the rattling of the gate. I slammed it shut and heard the click of the lock. As the sound reverberated through the large, hollow halls, another sound joined it.
A machine beeping. A tune, perhaps? It sounded eerily familiar. To the left of me was the exit to the outside, and my car, sitting under the only parking lot light that still worked. Every night, I’d run my cowardly butt across the desolate parking lot to my car and sit inside my car, hoping nobody’d approach the driver’s side window like they tend to do in all those stories I read online.
I shook my head and snapped out of whatever weird trance I was in, deciding to investigate the sound. The dimly lit emergency lights of the mall guided me down the huge walkways. Within a few moments, I found the source of the noises.
The last store, at the very back corner of the mall.
The Arcade. Quarter Up. Just seeing the sign lit up gave me a weird, foreign feeling in my stomach.
Wait.
Why was it lit up?
I approached slowly, pulling my jacket tight, as if it were going to provide me some sense of security. The noises grew even louder as I did so, and a second later, I could pretty clearly identify individual ones.
It was the sound of an arcade. A bustling one, at that. Arcade machines played their little theme tunes, designed to entice children into jamming their last quarter in. The flashing lights above some of the cabinets could be seen even outside the shop’s limits. It sounded like a busy night at Quarter Up. More busy than it’d been since I was a child.
“Uh… H-hello?” I stammered out in confusion, approaching the doors, the handles of which were shaped like two halves of a quarter. No response. I figured, since it was so loud inside. But, looking through the clear glass of the arcade, I could see it wasn’t lit up at all. So where had all those lights come from? Where is the noise coming from?
I resolved internally to yank open the door and find out the source of my dissonance. It was driving me insane. I pulled it open quickly and took a few steps inside, not sure what to expect.
Quarter Up was indeed bustling. There were kids of all ages, and even a few adults, taking up all the cabinets. There were more cabinets in there than I had ever seen, even as a kid. Most of the classics and even some of the machines I had never gotten to play on because they were a bit too old. I was floored at the sight. Didn’t any of these people care about what was going on outside? I remember the arcade always closed late because the owner knew the mall’s manager, but it had been closing early every day since the mall had started declining.
I walked across the floor, weird moving leds illuminating spots at my feet on the space-patterned carpet. The foreign feeling from earlier was spreading throughout my body. I felt warm all over as I gazed in dumb wonder at the carefree arcade fun everyone was having. I kept walking til I reached the help counter I had found myself running towards repeatedly as a child. I expected to see the owner, Charles, sitting behind the counter and cleaning extra joysticks, as I had seen him do so many times in the past. I didn’t.
Behind the counter was a tall, pale girl.
She had a mop of messy white hair, and it looked as if her ears were pointed. I couldn’t make out anything else, as she had her back turned.
Not for long, though.
“H-hello?” I stammered nervously, still confused about the situation, and hoping to be elucidated by this mysterious somebody.
“Oh, a new human!” She turned around quicker than I expected and I almost fell on my ass in shock.
“Yeah, aren’t you?”
She giggled. “Let me take that for you!” She grabbed my jacket with one of her sets of arms and handed me a roll of quarters with the other.
Wait.
“Y-your arms… You…”
“Hmm? Speak up, Human.” She responded. She wore huge spectacles, and even in the low light of the arcade, I could tell her face was peppered with freckles.
I opted to say nothing. I was already worried enough. Now she had my jacket. My car keys were in there. If I could just get to it again…
But I couldn’t. As I stared at her, dumbfounded, She hung up the jacket on the coat rack behind the counter. I remember Charles would do that so none of the kids would lose their coats zig-zagging between the rows and alleys made of arcade cabinets.
“Incredible.” She said, turning back to me.
“Huh?”
“You’re at an arcade, I’ve handed you a roll of quarters. You’re just going to stand there? You’re just as dense as he is.”
“Who?”
“Another Human. You needn’t know any more.”
I nodded.
“Anyways, go play! I suggest that one, right there!” She was pointing towards a brand-new Smash TV cabinet. “It just arrived today, after all!”
“Wait, today? Today as in… December 13th, 2020?”
“Huh? No! Today! December 13th, 1992!” She said with a smile, “Or, did you hit your head somewhere here? Human memory loss isn’t something I can reverse without you going insane.”
I didn’t know what to say. The room was spinning around me at her confident declaration. I gazed around. The people playing on the machines didn’t seem bothered at all that they were stuck thirty years in the past, if that is what happened.
“Hey, mister, move it! I gotta get more quarters!” a kid behind me pulled on my shirt rudely.
“I… okay.” I stumbled, almost drunkenly, towards the machine she’d pointed to.
As soon as I touched the twin joysticks for Player One, a warmth spread throughout my body. The foreign feeling that had been plaguing me for the past few moments had risen to a fever pitch.
I unwrapped the roll of quarters and popped a couple into the machine, and played a few rounds of Smash TV. Before I knew it, the quarters were used up. I snapped out of whatever trance I was in, and as I stood up straight, I realized I had broken a sweat.
“Hello, human.” Said a voice behind me. I turned around to see the odd… creature? Girl? Whatever she was.
“I have a name, you know.”
“And I don’t care what it is.” She responded, curtly. Her voice was somehow monotone, despite all the emotion she had been showing up to this point.
“How did you do this? How did you… The arcade…”
“I just snapped. Everything in this arcade is… exactly as it should be, for 1992. Well, except for you. You don’t look quite old enough.” She laughed. Her voice was raspy, but cute. Looking at her more closely, her mop of white hair had a few strands of solid black, right in the middle. It looked so natural I couldn’t tell if she had dyed it or not. I say natural, but honestly, I don’t think anything about this girl was.
“Tell you what, human.”
“Y-yes?”
“I need someone who is actually familiar with these to play with me. Seeing as you did pretty well on Smash TV, I’ll cut you a deal. I won’t trap you here forever if you keep playing until I get bored.”
“what?” I was taken aback. How could she say something like that so nonchalantly? Trap me here forever? I immediately got off the arcade machine and scrambled for the door, pushing past several kids who were waiting on line for a chance at Street Fighter II Turbo. The room was spinning as I tried to pull on the arcade doors.
“It’s a push, Human.” The girl’s voice spoke directly in my head. She wasn’t behind me, but it sounded like she was. I could hear her clearly over all the sounds in the arcade.
I pushed as hard as I could, and it wouldn’t budge. “Is this some kind of weird joke?”
It was then that I realized I was pushing nothing but air. I rushed my way forwards and into the Smash TV arcade cab. I fell on my ass again as I looked up and saw her.
“You can try all you like. I’m not going to let you go til I’m satisfied.” She said, shrugging both pairs of arms. “Besides, I have your car keys.”
“What’s your problem!?” I responded, my fear and worry giving way to anger.
“My problem, Human, is that you’re speaking to me like we’re equal. If you’re trying to ask why I’ve locked you in an arcade, it’s a long story. I don’t suppose you’d want to listen to an explanation as to why I’ve revived an obscure arcade in an even more obscure mall solely to spite my human roommate who told me not to break and enter to use arcade machines because I’m upset with him?” She responded in the verbal equivalent of a run-on sentence.
I’m going to be honest, I didn’t process a word of it after the first sentence.
“Eh? Huh?” I replied, my previous bluster gone.
“That’s what I thought. Now, you’re going to play Streets of Rage 2 with me, or you’re going to live in an arcade trapped in the 90s for the rest of your life.”
“Are you some kind of arcade ghost? A Gremlin?”
“A damn Gremlin? Are you kidding me, Human?” She looked offended at this. I shut my mouth.
Our play session seemed to go on forever. After Streets of Rage 2, we moved on to Lethal Enforcers, and then to Golden Axe. She definitely seemed to take a liking to the Sega machines more than others. At times, she would push me aside, and play a game on both players with all four of her long, lanky arms. She was thin and flat-chested, but she didn’t look young. Well, she looked young, but as if she were young for her age. She was taller than me, even, and I fancy myself a pretty big guy. She had been hunched over or sitting every time I’ve talked to her prior to this. As hammered away at the controls, I noticed the phone in her back pocket was illuminated with the phone symbol.
Somebody was calling her. The screen read “Human <3”. Did she just refer to every human by Human?
It was then I realized that I still had my cell phone. Oh god, my phone! I reached into my own back pocket to grab it and began to unlock and dial. She noticed what I was doing immediately, and calmly snapped her middle finger and thumb on one of her many hands. My phone turned to dust in my hands. I let out a weak whimper.
“Few more rounds of Golden Axe 2.” She said, flashing a smile at me. Her teeth were impossibly sharp and white. When you imagine someone having sharp teeth, you imagine shitty, jagged messes of teeth, right? No such thing with her. They were as straight as can be, and locked together like the bars of a cage. But her smile was genuine, despite all this. Her yellow eyes pierced through me.
I reluctantly obliged, and sighed, getting back on the machine with her. It felt like an hour before we were done. I was genuinely exhausted by the end of it. She seemed bored with Golden Axe as well. She walked me over to another, more familiar-looking machine. Familiar in construction, but I don’t think I’d ever seen this game in an arcade.
“Did you know this didn't come out until 1993?” She said, a mischievous smile on her face. She snapped her fingers and reached into what looked like a dark void in the air. She pulled out another roll of quarters. “Just a little rift in space-time, and you too can have a super rare Sonic arcade game in your possession.” She seemed almost ecstatic as it started up. It seemed like she wasn’t necessarily a Sonic fan, but more a fan of the perceived rarity of the cabinet. I myself wasn’t really an expert on arcades, but I had never really seen the machine in all my visits to Quarter Up. She was practically drooling as she pulled out a few quarters from the roll.
I was staring at her in anticipation, and she seemed to take her time hovering the coin over the slot. The tension was broken, however, when a child interrupted her focus.
“Uh, Mister Charles?”
“WHAT DO YOU NEED, HUMAN!? YOU DARE INTERRUPT ME!?” She screamed back, and her voice pierced my eardrums violently. The child didn’t seem to hear any of this.
“Er, yeah? What do you need?” She bent over to look down at the kid. Did the little dude not notice her arms? Did he think she was Charles?
“Yeah, Roger stole my roll of quarters. I’m really getting sick of him.”
“You know what? Here.” She reached into a void, grabbing another roll. “Take this. If he says anything to you, knock him upside the head with the whole roll.” She handed it to him with an approving nod, and her normal(?) unsettling smile.
“Thanks, Charles!” He said, running off. Almost as soon as he left her sight, she turned around and plopped the quarters into the machine. She placed her hands on the trackball controller and began to play.
I settled in to watch her. It seemed she didn’t always need me to participate. She was intense in her focus. It seemed like the whole world had ceased to exist around her.
Soon enough, it had begun fading away for me, too.
Literally. My focus on her snapped when I realized we were playing in complete blackness. There was nothing but me, her, and SegaSonic Arcade, the light from which was the only illumination in the immediate area. It shone on her face, but didn’t reach any further. The only sounds were her heavy breathing and the arcade machine.
I panicked a little, and started to move away from her, to find the exit.
“Almost done.” She snapped her finger and I reappeared right beside her. “Keep watching.”
It seemed like she had lived up to what she said. Within a few moments, Quarter Up faded back into view. But it wasn’t like it was a few hours ago. It was gray. The only lights were coming from the arcade machine. There were no kids. The abundance of arcade sounds was gone. There was just me, and the four-armed girl, who had worked up a profuse sweat playing Sonic of all things. She stepped away from the machine, and looked down at me, one set of arms at her waist, the other two holding and cleaning her glasses. The Arcade was strangely cold, and that warmth I had felt while playing games had completely dissipated. I suppose it was some sort of nostalgia.
“Well?” She said, expectantly.
“Huh?”
“You can go, now.” She pointed to the door. As I turned back to look at her, my jacket was in her hands.
I reached for it, and grabbed it reluctantly.
“Your keys are there. I’ve got absolutely nothing to gain by tricking a human as dense as you.”
I heard them jingle as I put my coat on and backed away, towards the arcade door. I kept my eyes on her, and her, me.
“I… Goodbye, I guess.” I managed to eke out. I was still gathering myself. It felt like only moments ago I was playing Smash TV.
“Don’t forget to think of me whenever you’re running late, Human!” She said, waving one of her arms.
I stumbled out of Quarter Up, half in-shock and half because I forgot that it was a push instead of a pull door.
The mall skylight was covered in a layer of white, so I couldn’t tell what time it was. Not like I had a phone to tell, either.
I reached into my back pocket anyway, and, lo and behold, my phone was there. In good condition, too.
The screen read 6:13 AM. The mall would be opening soon. I rushed out to the side exit, occasionally gazing back at the dim sign for the arcade. Was she still in there? If I went back inside now, would I find that same lively Quarter Up from the 90s? Would She be waiting for me? I pondered over this as I leaned against the side exit door, before realizing escaping the clutches of her bored whims was probably more important than finding out if she was an arcade ghost. Or a Gremlin.
The morning sun and winter cold greeted me harshly. I was so accustomed to the low lights and gentle warmth of the arcade that it hit me like a truck to be out in the cold. I got to my car in what felt like record time and started it up, eternally grateful that it warmed up so fast. As I sat down, I felt something hard under my butt. I got up to identify and move the object.
It was a roll of quarters.
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