The Arcade
Chapter 3

When Cosmo got to the front entry of the mall and pushed the doors open, he felt the cool hush of the mall air conditioning. At the moment he started to walk through the doors, however, he felt a slight resistance against his body, as though he were facing into a strong breeze – yet there was no breeze, only the cool of the air conditioning. He thought little of it, and continued in through the doors.

Looking around, he saw all the sights he expected to see, heard what he expected to hear, and smelled all the wonderful “mall smells” he remembered: the food court, cotton candy, new shoes and leather, hair salon chemicals, and the smell of popcorn from the Cineplex-5. He also noticed that there seemed to be something out of place – but he couldn’t quite decide what.

Shaking himself, he headed off in the direction he remembered the arcade to be located. As he recalled, it was sort of wedged in between a Spencer’s and a Foot Locker. The background mall music, ironically enough, was playing 80’s top ten songs, but all in “muzak” format – like elevator music. He found himself humming along with the muzak version of “White Wedding.” It seems anything could be made schmaltzy. He also noticed a couple of teen-age girls laughing rather loudly: one dressed like Cyndi Lauper, and the other like an 80’s Madonna – both awash in day-glo and bangles. Were they serious? Some fashions should never come back – like bell bottoms, for example.

He found the pair of escalators that led to and from the lower level, and stepped on to the one headed down. He reached the bottom and stepped off, and immediately noticed that most of the stores on this level were closed, and it was practically deserted. He saw one maintenance man and a couple of walkers. He hung a left from the escalator and headed off in the direction of the arcade.

Rounding a slight curve, he caught sight of the Spencer’s that told him he was nearly there, and quickened his pace. He was, he realized, smiling. He was also nervous – as though he were meeting his old high school sweetheart for coffee, and the “flame” was still there.

He walked up to the Spencer’s, and immediately noticed that the Foot Locker was gone, and in it’s place was a “Wicks & Sticks.” He had a moment of panic when he thought he may be in the wrong part of the mall, but he quickly recovered when he noticed the nearly hidden crevice that served as the entry into the arcade. The sign above the entryway was very faded, but there it was in elegant script: The Wizard’s Asylum. He took a deep breath and walked in.

The moment he stepped through the door and into the arcade, he felt immediately different. It was almost as if nothing had changed in the thirty or so years since he was last in here. The lights, the décor, the sounds – even the games seemed the same. Like nothing had changed. He heard the game music from a dozen or more different video games beeping and chirping simultaneously: Pac-Man, Asteroids, Dig-Dug, Centipede (one of his personal faves), and many others. It was a miasma of electronic memories sweeping through his senses in a wave that made him sway on his feet for a moment, temporarily disorienting him.

The world warped ever so slightly, jumped, then snapped back into focus. The dizziness resolved itself, and his vision cleared. Everything seemed normal again…or did it? There were indeed all the games he had heard the theme music of, and all of them right where he remembered them to be! Pac-Man right next to the change machine; Missile Command next to Pac-Man; Joust next to Tank Commander, Tempest, and Galaga. There wasn’t one single modern video game in the place.

He looked at the kids in the place, too. At first, nothing seemed out of place, until Cosmo looked a little closer: the clothes weren’t right. To be more exact, they weren’t right for this time period. Neither were the hairstyles, come to think of it. Concert t-shirts, acid washed jeans, high-top Nikes and Swatches on the boys, and what few girls there were in here all seemed to be miniature versions of their favorite pop songstress: there was at least one Pat Benatar, another Madonna, and one young lady who may have been trying to look like Stevie Nicks.

Cosmo stood transfixed. It was as if he had stepped back in time to the year 1985. Of course, that couldn’t be. It was 2012. Still, no one dressed like these kids were dressed. Not anymore. The only thing that came to his mind was that it must be some sort of “rave” – which clearly had an ’80’s theme. Still, he was here – so he figured he might as well walk around, drop a few quarters, and enjoy his afternoon. He didn’t have anything better planned for the day, and the escapism of the place was a welcome distraction from the morning’s events.

He found the change machine and peeled off a five dollar bill, inserted it into the slot, and waited for the quarters to drop. Almost immediately, twenty quarters slushed into the metal tray. Scooping out his bounty, Cosmo looked around until he caught sight of Centipede, and smiled as he started towards the machine and his happy memories.

He looked at the screen, and ran his hands over the trackball and “fire” button with practiced recognition. This was an old friend. He smiled inwardly and, with a flourish, dropped a quarter into the slot. He pushed the “start” button and listened to the intro music, heard the steady ‘thump-thump-thump’ of the centipede’s advance, and began to play.

The funny thing about arcades is that they’re like casinos: no windows, no clocks, and lots of distractions. You literally lose all sense of time; minutes become hours, and day becomes night. When you finally realize that you might need to be somewhere, time has passed you by in what seems like the blink of an eye. So it was with Cosmo. He had been in the arcade for nearly eight hours, although to him it seemed as though a fraction of that time. About the time he realized that he should probably be getting along home to check his email, update his résumé, and maybe catch the news, an older man had appeared at his side quite unnoticed.

Actually, he was very much an older man – if Cosmo had to guess, he would have put him at around seventy-five or eighty. He was also wearing what appeared to be a maintenance uniform. The name patch read “Sal.”

“Where ya going, Cosmo?” Sal asked.

“Well, it’s getting late and I really need to…Wait – how’d you know my name?” Cosmo asked with unconcealed surprise. He hadn’t been here in over twenty years, but he sure didn’t remember anyone named Sal.

“Going home? I thought this is where you wanted to be.” Sal replied, ignoring the question. “After all, wasn’t it just this morning you were wishing you could go back and do things over?”

Cosmo took a step backward and said “Look – I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I sure don’t know who you are, so if you’ll excuse me…” With that, Cosmo left the arcade and made his way back toward the front entrance.

He was feeling a cold chill creep down his neck as he walked. Something was definitely wrong. This place was wrong – no, that wasn’t it; this when was wrong. More and more, Cosmo picked up on things that had evaded his notice when he had first come in: not only was the muzak “retro,” but so was the clothing. Little things – like the lack of cell phones – crept across his consciousness. When he passed the Cineplex5, he noticed a couple of feature movie posters: “The Empire Strikes Back” and “Back to the Future” were the two big draws. Cosmo started to shake uncontrollably.

“Don’t be afraid, Cosmo. This is where you wanted to be, right?”

Cosmo nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. He spun around and saw Sal leaning on a push broom. He had a faint smile playing across his mouth, one eyebrow slightly arched in question. Luckily for Cosmo, there was a bench less than three feet away, which offered him an option other than his legs collapsing underneath him and falling down right where he was.

“Wha-what’s going on here? What is this? I don’t underst..” Cosmo faltered.

“It’s like this-” Sal began. “you are where you wanted to be. This morning on your way down the stairs of your condo, you wished you could have the chance to do things differently. I believe the term you used was, erm…ah yes – a ‘Divine Mulligan’.

“So you went to your office, lost your job, and here you are. So where would you like to start?” Sal was still wearing that smile. Cosmo’s late grandfather used to smile like that: like nothing ever got to him. Total peace…and totally annoying.

“I…I’m not exactly sure what you mean, and I still have no idea who you are, and I still really, really need to be getting home. I need to…need to…”

“Need to what?” Sal challenged. “Need to update your résumé? Need to check your email?” He sat next to Cosmo and looked at him “What you need to do is consider the opportunity you have been presented with, young man. How many people ever get the chance to do things a second time – to make things right?” Cosmo just gaped at him.

Sal smiled. “Well, sonny – here’s your one chance.”