The kid got out of his dented Olds and hefted his duffel. He checked the address again. The grew long and the porch sagged. After he knocked on the door, the guy who answered the door was pot-bellied, his clothes stained. The whole place stank of booze.

“I need you to teach me,” the kid said.

“No way, kid. I left that life behind me.”

“You used to be the best. They say you found the trick where you could hide on the upper left of the screen to be safe from asteroids.”

“That was a long time ago.” The old man started to slam the door.

The kid pointed into the living room. “Then why do you still have it?”

The old man looked at the dusty console. “Kid, that thing hasn’t been plugged in in years.”

“I’m good. I can prove it.” The kid took a roll of quarters from his pocket.

“Well, all right.”

The old man shook his head as he watched. “You thrust when you should hyperspace. You’re scared to go off the sides of the screen. You lack focus!”

“Then teach me.”

“Get your stuff. We start tomorrow.”