In pieces
An entry for LJ Idol, week 12, "Some assembly required." Stand-alone fiction.
Rotate left...no, right...fit into the area - wait, that'll leave a space below, move it to the right of the screen...and...DROP.
Lia's fingers tapped the keys quickly, with quiet, sure movement. She stared at the screen as the blocks of red, blue, yellow, orange appeared at the top, and she arranged them perfectly before they dropped to the bottom.
It had always escaped her why people scoffed when she said this was her favorite game. Sure, there weren't faces so detailed you could see virtual nose hair, or sprays of gunfire, or running-jumping-kicking cartoon characters. So much the better. The mini-rainbow of pieces was enough to be appealing, the predictability perfect for zoning out...especially when you played as much as Lia did. This was meditation, as far as she was concerned.
"But you're not building anything," her brother Jacob - a Level 80 shaman in at least three MMOs - was fond of pointing out. "Fitting blocks together to fill in the blanks? You might as well be playing Legos."
"Legos are the perfect toy," she'd replied the last time. "Why else would kids love them so much?"
But Jake insisted she was sharp enough to make a real go of a character in any of his games. She wasn't interested - she played her game to spend more time in her own world, not to live in another one.
Rotate right, slide right two columns...watch it creep down...tap left at the last...second.
"You're really good at this," said a quiet voice over her left shoulder.
Lia nearly jumped out of her skin, letting out a tiny yelp.
"Bloody hell, so sorry," the voice said, and its owner stepped around to face her. "You were quite in the zone there, yeah?"
Looking, she knew, a bit like a startled fawn, Lia's gaze traveled up from a perfectly ordinary pair of jeans to a well-worn navy-blue t-shirt reading 'Al, why haven't I leaped yet?' She came to a blinking stop at the face - which could easily have been chosen by central casting for the role of Harry Potter, aged 27: schoolboyish, nearly-black hair; pale European skin; dancing blue eyes under a pair of wire-rimmed glasses; a black bag over one athletic shoulder.
She suddenly realized that she was staring, open-mouthed.
"Y-yeah," she stammered, face going red. "I didn't hear...hi."
"Hey," he replied. "Didn't mean to startle ya. I shouldn't interrupt such a single-minded pursuit of Tetris excellence. I'm Andy."
"Of course you are," Lia said, realizing too late that she spoke aloud. "I mean...OK. Hi."
Andy grinned. "I really didn't mean to set you off-balance," he said politely. What was that accent? He glossed over Rs like a Brit, but broadened Is like a Texan.
It was as if he could hear her processing him. "It's both," he explained. "Raised by British grandparents. Spent summers in Houston with my parents."
"I...see," Lia said, not sure that was true at all. Most of the other patrons spoke Mandarin to one another, some Korean or Japanese, a few Hindi or Arabic - and they came here for the same reason she did: perfect pots of tea and absolutely no one who would bother you. Andy was, apparently, not aware of the protocol.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said - but his expression quickly shifted to sheepish. “All right, that’s not entirely true. I meant to speak to you, but I didn’t mean to bother you.”
By now, the other café denizens were eyeing them, either with open irritation or wild curiosity. Definitely the wrong fit. Lia sank lower in her chair. “Maybe you should sit down,” she said meaningfully, glancing about and hoping he’d take the hint.
“Oh, right,” Andy said more quietly, slipping into the empty chair across from her and lowering the bag to the floor. She sighed. Close enough...though part of her had hoped he’d have let her be.
“Listen, I know I don’t look like I’m busy...” She trailed off, looking at him pointedly.
He cringed. “Not exactly...but I’m often wrong about such things so it wouldn’t surprise me if -“
“It shouldn’t,” Lia replied, as gently as she could manage. She wasn’t a fan of being hit on, even if the subject in question was a little cute, in a please-get-out-of-my-space kind of way.
Andy was rattled, in a way that almost made her feel sorry for him. He opened and closed his mouth a time or two, vaguely fishlike, then pushed his glasses up on his nose and shouldered his bag - 6 by 4, rectangular - again. “Really sorry,” he said, and Lia could tell he meant it. “Don’t know how anyone actually succeeds like this, to be honest. I don’t buy into that ‘treat her like shite and she’ll fall at your feet’ thing. Oh...erm, sorry about the ‘shite.’”
He was too busy scrambling to his feet to see Lia finally smile. There was no way that was a put-on, she knew; she could spot fake manners at 50 paces, and almost no one apologized for swearing anymore.
Damn. He’d busted her groove, and she was still going to throw him a line. Because, after all, the blue eyes and geeky t-shirt fit nicely into her thoughts.
“You’re forgiven,” she said, resigned but amused. Andy’s eyes popped up to meet hers again, embarrassed but grateful.
“Cheers...uh...thanks,” he said, angling his head toward the door. “I’ll just be...erm...heading off to be an arse somewhere else.”
She let him take a few steps before she said his name out loud - and he stopped in his tracks, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard right, then turned slowly back toward her. Lia nodded, and he moved closer again. She pretended not to notice the babushkas eyeing them with unabashed interest from two tables away, and reached into her purse for a pen and a notepad, pushing both across the table. Off Andy’s confused expression, she said:
“Your phone number?”
He blinked twice, as if they were speaking different languages, but seemed unable to move.
“The atmosphere rubs off on you, huh?” she smiled, tapping the pad. “Here. Gotta start somewhere.”
Andy blinked twice more, then shook his head a bit. “Yeah,” he said absently, taking the pen and paper and dashing something off. Lia took it back and eyed the small, neat letters and numbers, then looked up to eye him.
“Thanks,” she said warmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have towers to build.”
He finally managed to smile again. “Yeah...of course...great. So maybe you’ll...OK. Thanks. Right.”
“Lia,” she said, extending her hand. Andy took it, and she squeezed back gently; the fit was perfect. He let go, tipped her a tiny wave, and scuttled out the door.
She grinned to herself, taking out her phone and entering the new contact.
~Maybe more than maybe,~ she thumbed into a text message. ~After all - don’t you need all the pieces before you can put the puzzle together?~
The response was swift. ~That would seem to be the case.~
~Great. So the tea house, same time tomorrow?~
The pause stretched out past a minute this time. ~Cat got your tongue?~
~A bit. But...yes, same time tomorrow.~
Lia chuckled. It was as if he'd hit the space bar, right on target.
~Terrific. Bring your computer. If you beat me, I’ll buy you a cuppa.~
~And if you win?~
~Let’s just see how things stack up.~
Rotate left...no, right...fit into the area - wait, that'll leave a space below, move it to the right of the screen...and...DROP.
Lia's fingers tapped the keys quickly, with quiet, sure movement. She stared at the screen as the blocks of red, blue, yellow, orange appeared at the top, and she arranged them perfectly before they dropped to the bottom.
It had always escaped her why people scoffed when she said this was her favorite game. Sure, there weren't faces so detailed you could see virtual nose hair, or sprays of gunfire, or running-jumping-kicking cartoon characters. So much the better. The mini-rainbow of pieces was enough to be appealing, the predictability perfect for zoning out...especially when you played as much as Lia did. This was meditation, as far as she was concerned.
"But you're not building anything," her brother Jacob - a Level 80 shaman in at least three MMOs - was fond of pointing out. "Fitting blocks together to fill in the blanks? You might as well be playing Legos."
"Legos are the perfect toy," she'd replied the last time. "Why else would kids love them so much?"
But Jake insisted she was sharp enough to make a real go of a character in any of his games. She wasn't interested - she played her game to spend more time in her own world, not to live in another one.
Rotate right, slide right two columns...watch it creep down...tap left at the last...second.
"You're really good at this," said a quiet voice over her left shoulder.
Lia nearly jumped out of her skin, letting out a tiny yelp.
"Bloody hell, so sorry," the voice said, and its owner stepped around to face her. "You were quite in the zone there, yeah?"
Looking, she knew, a bit like a startled fawn, Lia's gaze traveled up from a perfectly ordinary pair of jeans to a well-worn navy-blue t-shirt reading 'Al, why haven't I leaped yet?' She came to a blinking stop at the face - which could easily have been chosen by central casting for the role of Harry Potter, aged 27: schoolboyish, nearly-black hair; pale European skin; dancing blue eyes under a pair of wire-rimmed glasses; a black bag over one athletic shoulder.
She suddenly realized that she was staring, open-mouthed.
"Y-yeah," she stammered, face going red. "I didn't hear...hi."
"Hey," he replied. "Didn't mean to startle ya. I shouldn't interrupt such a single-minded pursuit of Tetris excellence. I'm Andy."
"Of course you are," Lia said, realizing too late that she spoke aloud. "I mean...OK. Hi."
Andy grinned. "I really didn't mean to set you off-balance," he said politely. What was that accent? He glossed over Rs like a Brit, but broadened Is like a Texan.
It was as if he could hear her processing him. "It's both," he explained. "Raised by British grandparents. Spent summers in Houston with my parents."
"I...see," Lia said, not sure that was true at all. Most of the other patrons spoke Mandarin to one another, some Korean or Japanese, a few Hindi or Arabic - and they came here for the same reason she did: perfect pots of tea and absolutely no one who would bother you. Andy was, apparently, not aware of the protocol.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said - but his expression quickly shifted to sheepish. “All right, that’s not entirely true. I meant to speak to you, but I didn’t mean to bother you.”
By now, the other café denizens were eyeing them, either with open irritation or wild curiosity. Definitely the wrong fit. Lia sank lower in her chair. “Maybe you should sit down,” she said meaningfully, glancing about and hoping he’d take the hint.
“Oh, right,” Andy said more quietly, slipping into the empty chair across from her and lowering the bag to the floor. She sighed. Close enough...though part of her had hoped he’d have let her be.
“Listen, I know I don’t look like I’m busy...” She trailed off, looking at him pointedly.
He cringed. “Not exactly...but I’m often wrong about such things so it wouldn’t surprise me if -“
“It shouldn’t,” Lia replied, as gently as she could manage. She wasn’t a fan of being hit on, even if the subject in question was a little cute, in a please-get-out-of-my-space kind of way.
Andy was rattled, in a way that almost made her feel sorry for him. He opened and closed his mouth a time or two, vaguely fishlike, then pushed his glasses up on his nose and shouldered his bag - 6 by 4, rectangular - again. “Really sorry,” he said, and Lia could tell he meant it. “Don’t know how anyone actually succeeds like this, to be honest. I don’t buy into that ‘treat her like shite and she’ll fall at your feet’ thing. Oh...erm, sorry about the ‘shite.’”
He was too busy scrambling to his feet to see Lia finally smile. There was no way that was a put-on, she knew; she could spot fake manners at 50 paces, and almost no one apologized for swearing anymore.
Damn. He’d busted her groove, and she was still going to throw him a line. Because, after all, the blue eyes and geeky t-shirt fit nicely into her thoughts.
“You’re forgiven,” she said, resigned but amused. Andy’s eyes popped up to meet hers again, embarrassed but grateful.
“Cheers...uh...thanks,” he said, angling his head toward the door. “I’ll just be...erm...heading off to be an arse somewhere else.”
She let him take a few steps before she said his name out loud - and he stopped in his tracks, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard right, then turned slowly back toward her. Lia nodded, and he moved closer again. She pretended not to notice the babushkas eyeing them with unabashed interest from two tables away, and reached into her purse for a pen and a notepad, pushing both across the table. Off Andy’s confused expression, she said:
“Your phone number?”
He blinked twice, as if they were speaking different languages, but seemed unable to move.
“The atmosphere rubs off on you, huh?” she smiled, tapping the pad. “Here. Gotta start somewhere.”
Andy blinked twice more, then shook his head a bit. “Yeah,” he said absently, taking the pen and paper and dashing something off. Lia took it back and eyed the small, neat letters and numbers, then looked up to eye him.
“Thanks,” she said warmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have towers to build.”
He finally managed to smile again. “Yeah...of course...great. So maybe you’ll...OK. Thanks. Right.”
“Lia,” she said, extending her hand. Andy took it, and she squeezed back gently; the fit was perfect. He let go, tipped her a tiny wave, and scuttled out the door.
She grinned to herself, taking out her phone and entering the new contact.
~Maybe more than maybe,~ she thumbed into a text message. ~After all - don’t you need all the pieces before you can put the puzzle together?~
The response was swift. ~That would seem to be the case.~
~Great. So the tea house, same time tomorrow?~
The pause stretched out past a minute this time. ~Cat got your tongue?~
~A bit. But...yes, same time tomorrow.~
Lia chuckled. It was as if he'd hit the space bar, right on target.
~Terrific. Bring your computer. If you beat me, I’ll buy you a cuppa.~
~And if you win?~
~Let’s just see how things stack up.~