Silver Wolf

He played with the joystick, every day, every hour. A fast food restaurant with a single employee, a basement converted into an arcade, a few old arcade machines - that was his childhood. He had no legal name or ID number, just a nickname his manager had chosen for him. He had no friends, but he was not alone. He loved Pong - two lines and a dot of light, the simplest ball game. He could play it all day long. He loved Battle Wheel 32 - eight blocks of different colors in a matrix-drawn sky. There was only one rule: Win no matter what. He loved Geometric Wars, Odysseus, and Star Cheetah. His score records in these games were filled with astronomical numbers left by other customers. He played with the joystick, every day, every hour. Until one day, there was only one name left on all the score records. He put down the joystick and looked around the empty basement. Many people wanted to rest here, but few stayed behind. Many people left, but few returned. He blinked and closed the screen. That night, the only employee of the fast food restaurant said goodbye to the owner and was the next to leave. The game called Basement ended that night.