"Anna, please, not the -"
But it was too late; the computer monitor landed with a sickening thud on the pavement, circuitry cracking and flying in every direction. I winced. George howled, creating a nice scene for the sideways glances of neighbors and passersby.
"Annabeth?" I call up. Her raven-haired head poked out of the window. She looked harried, but managed a smile when she saw me.
"Tom, hey! Come up!"
"Um, sure. On my way," I responded, avoiding George's confused gaze. As she buzzed me up, I grabbed a brown package addressed to her, left in front of her doorstep.
When I entered her apartment, I saw the place scattered with the remains of a year-long relationship, the glass front of a picture-frame smashed to bits on the floor.
"You, um, got a package," I remarked, although she wasn't listening.
"You bastard!" she screeched, hurling a bundle of clothes to the pavement. Quietly viewing this spectacle, I gingerly began cleaning up the room.
An hour later, after more screaming and more of George's things littering the street, he left and she finally relaxed enough to sit down. We established what a terrible person George was and how he shouldn't have cheated on her with "that skank," and so on. Eventually, her attention was drawn to the brown box that had arrived.
"What's that?" she asked. I shrugged and said it had her name on it. She tore it open, thanks to my helpful set of keys. She dug through the packing peanuts, finally pulling out a copy of her future.
Getting a Second Life
Most people get games so they can enjoy them. You have a general idea of what it's going to be before you shell out the cash for it.
Second Life, for Annabeth, was nothing of the sort. It was hard to navigate, the controls were somewhat foreign to her, and she wasn't terribly interested in the nonlinear purposelessness of the world. She preferred high-action shooting games with an intellectual backbone, like the Half-Life series, or even something with less outright violence, like Zelda. Still, she gradually began to take to it like a newborn duck to water.
Little did I know, Peter had opened a Second Life account months before and frequented the very areas Annabeth was exploring. When I discovered this, I immediately knew I had to play matchmaker. How to do it, though?
I realized that they both liked to see jazz performed live - or pseudo live, in this case - so that would be my opening. After a few cautious phone calls, I managed to get them both into a quaint jazz cafe that evening, overlooking a pixelated beach. I was there, in all my glory, escorting Annabeth that evening.
When we arrived, I spotted Peter's avatar, quietly sitting and watching the band start their set. I pulled Annabeth over and did a fancy-seeing-you-here before sitting us down at his table. They started talking (which is much easier in a loud cafe or club using text chatting), and they learned they had much in common, especially their taste in games. After 20 minutes, they began talking so much, I excused myself for the bathroom and slipped out the door. I was not missed.
