Cabinet Man vs. the New Kids on the Rock

Part four: interlude

    It was always interesting how the sun set earlier in the winter; no matter how many years you lived, you never quite got used to it. Looking out the window at the darkening twilight, it was hard to believe that the arcade had only just closed a few minutes ago. At least now, getting through those long cold nights--and, for that matter, the stagnant days which preceded and followed--was a lot easier. It was less lonely with another living machine around, and a whole lot less dull, even with Dollarton being rooted to the ground the way Cabinet Man fortunately wasn't. Of course, he couldn't survive off of good company alone. It was just a shame that Dollarton was so squeamish about Cabinet Man eating people; he feared that it might drive a wedge between their burgeoning friendship if the other arcade game couldn't get over his silly hangups.

Now, as Cabinet Man stood by the window and gazed out at the snowflakes drifting lazily through the evening sky, he was overtaken with a deep sense of melancholy. The beauty of those flakes was enchanting, and there was nothing stopping him from wandering outside if he wanted to, but for some indiscernible reason, the sight of them made his heart heavy. And that wasn't the only organ of his that was feeling weighed down lately--he would have to find a way to empty his lungs out soon, or he'd end up drowning in all the quarters rattling around inside him.

"Look at all that snow," he buzzed, casting a glance over his shoulder at Dollarton. "It must be getting close to the holidays, zzt."

"Hmm?"

Dollarton's pixelated face blinked, looking up to return Cabinet Man's gaze. He sounded distracted--maybe by the pile of bones scattered next to him on the floor. Again, he'd have to get used to that kind of thing sooner or later. It wasn't as if Cabinet Man had any choice; he had to eat people, or he'd starve. Of course, he would still enjoy eating people even if it wasn't necessary for his survival, but still... Dollarton didn't have to know that part.

Cabinet Man repeated himself, and Dollarton laughed in that annoyingly haughty manner of his.

"Actually, unless time magically passes by quicker when you're an arcade machine, I believe it's still the middle of November."

"Really?" Cabinet Man's wires drooped. "Then why hasn't anyone been coming to the arcade these, zzt, past few days?"

"Well, my friend, not every day is a world champion mega championship. People only come to the arcade when there's something exciting going on."

Dollarton's tone bordered between matter-of-fact and condescending, and Cabinet Man was too far away from him to make out the expression on his onscreen face. Whichever was the intended tone of his new friend's words, Cabinet Man was disgruntled. Why wasn't he an exciting enough feature on his own to attract players? He used to be, back in the 80s... what was wrong with society today?

"But... I'm getting so lonely," he whined. Then, as if the universe had noticed his discontentment and decided to amplify it, a sudden glitch wracked his machinery. His insides contracted, and a crackling sound not unlike a cough erupted from his voicebox. The spasm set the change in his lungs jingling, reminding him of the other issue plaguing him. "And I've been having trouble breathing lately."

"Hmm... well, maybe that will teach you not to wire yourself so that the change you collect goes in your lungs," said Dollarton. "I would have set it up so the change is deposited into my bank account."

Cabinet Man wasn't sure whether his friend was joking or not, so he didn't say anything in response to that remark, instead going back to staring out the window. In the mere minute or so he had spent speaking with Dollarton, the sky had already grown exponentially darker. Now it was nearly pitch-black out save for the streetlights, with only the faintest trace of dusky blue-purple in the sky. The darker sky made it easier to see his own reflection in the window. Cabinet Man noticed that his screen bore a frown. That hadn't even been a conscious decision on his part, and nor was the frown deepening as he noticed this. He wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, at what a miracle of programming he was. Even decades later, he was still pretty proud of himself for pulling it off.

Behind his own reflection, some movement caught his eye. The pixels on Dollarton's screen had rearranged into the image of an arm, moving as if to pat someone on the back. Of course he couldn't actually touch him, but Cabinet Man smiled nonetheless at the sweet gesture. Nobody had ever offered him such a casual display of sympathy back when he was fully human.

"Keep your chin up," Dollarton told him. "Maybe tomorrow we'll get more visitors. For now, let's turn in and get some rest."

"You're right," Cabinet Man said, although in all honesty he had trouble believing it. Believable or not, it was a nice sentiment, and so he tried to convince himself of its truthfulness. "I'll probably feel better in the morning."

He turned away from the window and walked back through the arcade toward his usual spot amidst the other machines. On his way, he paused to extend a mechanical arm and give Dollarton a clumsy pat on the back. (He was considering making a pair of robot arms for Dollarton as well, so the poor bastard could move around as freely as he did, but Cabinet Man hadn't done any engineering in decades, and his fine motor skills weren't what they used to be.) He also took the opportunity to sweep the remains of his last victim aside, hiding them under one of the other arcade machines--not Dollarton; he didn't think his uppity friend would have appreciated that.

Once he was settled comfortably in his usual position near the back of the arcade, Cabinet Man let his pixelated eyes fall shut. A moment later, his screen went black altogether. A low hum emitted from his inner machinery as he powered down, asleep.