Space Invaders

[Steve Jones]

A musclebound, athletic teenage boy stood at an arcade machine in the corner of the Hotel's multipurpose game room. He wasn't an arcade junkie by any means, but he was bored often enough so that he had almost perfected his ability to exterminate pixelated aliens.

Almost.

As his final spacecraft was obliterated and the two notorious words flashed on the screen, he kicked the stupid machine and fished in his pockets for another quarter. Not one.

He sighed, "Damnit... now what?"

[ASHLIE]

"Please refrain from damaging hotel property." a strict looking woman says, eyeing Steve from the door.

[Steve Jones]

He looked over, startled. Her timing was eerie. It was always eerie. What was wrong with... the line of thought died.

"Whatever..." he said, stepping away from the machine, "...I'm out of quarters anyway."

[ASHLIE]

"I am growing sick of having to remind you. In just two days you have broken 3 plates, a cup, disabled an elevator and broke a lock while trying to pick it."

[Steve Jones]

Why did he do those things? He didn't remember ever being a troublemaker.

He looked down guiltily. It wasn't entirely honest, but he didn't want her to call those creepy security guards.

[ASHLIE]

"You shouldn't be here anyway. It's almost dinner-time."

[Steve Jones]

"Already?" he asked, looking to the clock.

[ASHLIE]

The clock clearly reads 2 pm.

"Yes. You should hurry."

[Steve Jones]

"But it's only two..." he said, confused.

[ASHLIE]

Miss Ashlie presses her lips together to a thin, almost white stripe and stares at Steve.

"Dinner is being served in the grand ballroom."

[Steve Jones]

Clock must be wrong or something.

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

He shuddered anyway as he walked out into the hall.