Hayden knocked. “I got you an ice-pack, Mom.”He answered for me. “Cool, bud. Just leave it by the door. I’ll get it in a sec. And I signed your math homework. Great job! 100 percent.”I said nothing. After a moment, we heard Hayden go back to his bedroom. I looked at Carl. He looked at me. All I needed to do was nod. He nodded back, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. There was the man I married. Still in there. I kissed him on the mouth. He was surprised.
We set the program to ever-so-slightly manipulate some of the formulas on his math assignment. Hayden got an 87.9 percent on his subsequent math test, just 0.1 percent away from a B+. That got under his skin. He’d never scored lower than a 92.3 percent. No one thing was ever enough to ruin his entire day—but compounded upon each other and spread over two weeks, it was enough to make him feel out of sorts.
But when I received notification in my Goggles that Madison Coyle, my classmate and neighbor, considered me of romantic interest, I felt the minor misfortunes of the previous two weeks disappear into the background. I checked the database for the arcade’s POSat. Only a 4.1. Far lower than anticipated. I demanded clarification as to what outcome the Goggles qualified as a “success.”
Aside from Shopper’s Fountain, the main attraction in this location is Big Time Screen Time, affectionately shortened to Big T. Caffeine Hut. To highlight a sophisticated palette. But also, the effects of caffeine on my intellectually keen 11-year-old brain afford me the social edge needed in case any friends attempt to intercept my affection toward Madison.Canopy-Run: A Rainforest AdventureThis particular experience is a 9.5. Plus, it’s a specialty experience, compatible for two people at a time, highly physical, not recommended for the elderly or expecting mothers.
However, the unseemly fragrance of undigested coffee and brussels sprouts creeps into my VR helmet, effectively trapping me in a gas chamber of my own creation. My Goggles suggest three unsatisfactory options.“It appears they piped hog stench through the vents” I sense people clearing a path. I am grateful for every stranger getting out of my way. My path brightens. I am close. But then—The hand chopping into my neck, upon impact, feels rather dull. It does not feel like a crushed windpipe at first. Though when I breath, only a faint whistle escapes from my lungs. The more pressing concern is that the impact at my neck triggers a burst of warmth below my waist.