Evicted #002

C sat alone in the dimly lit arcade at a sticky table. The LED lights on the arcade cabinets shone in neon like colors, painting the interior of the building with a bleak rainbow-puke carpet. A few kids and ribcages still lingered at some of the more popular cabinets, staring with wonder filled eyes and hollow faces at the screens. All of them spending their hard earned coins trying to achieve something as fleeting as a high score, that would be conquered a few days later. C did not look down upon them, she had spent way too much time herself trying to fill her now very empty schedule with the digital worlds presented in every cabinet. Her tag was still in the top ten in every game. She needed a new way to pass her time.

Drake came over to her table and gave C a scratched and dented can filled to the brink with an orange fluid. She looked at it reluctantly. It was a super nova of sweetness which most often left her with persistent headache, but it would be rude to decline. As she contemplated whether to just ignore the drink or at least sip on it a little Drake pulled out a chair and sat down.

“So how’s it going with the job search? Not that I’m bothered with you being here every day. It helps filling my coffers.” Drake said smugly.

“Not great. There are vacant jobs, but not any that are for me.” she answered back.

“Well sometimes you need to lower your standards. The station is always in a need of grease rats.” he said trying to be comforting.

“Yeah but I am no grease rat. I don’t want to crawl around in air ducts like those ribs over there. It is below me!” she spat out angrily.

C’s compad played a single tone and came to life with a bright light piercing the darkness in the room. She had received a message. It was from her landlord. The only word that stuck with her from reading the message was “evicted”.

“As I said, you need to lower your standards.” said Drake.


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