Story (5) The Arrival

Karl was amazed by how immediate and seemingly uncaused it came. Like morning wood Karl suddenly was overwhelmed by the desire for 'the game'. It was completely irrational, he hadn't played for a while and he'd been fine. Actually, embarrassingly enough, he'd thought partway through Pennsylvannia, it would be awkward if his guildies had it up and running and he didn't even want to play it. It urged him to play, reminded him of the problems of real life he would shortly encounter. There were parents to be talked to, apologies to be made, savings accounts to run out, eventually the problems Karl had run from would come crushing down and without the game, he'd have no shelter. Ironically Karl turned up the Rage song "No Shelter" which was playing as he drove towards the goal.

The self-talk began: 'Don't worry about it man, you'll get there and they'll have it all set up and everything will be back to normal. The guild is waiting for you, just get to Fredericksburg and we'll be fine.' Karl thought to himself. A quotation from a more popular Karl was floating around in his head: "The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win." Ever the philosopher, Karl began to think it over, Marx had been wrong in a classically modern sense, which left the postmoderns of today feeling distant. It was the problem Karl himself was now facing. 'what if I don't want the world? what if - to cite James Bond - the world is not enough? what if a man finally freed of his chains finds the chains more comfortable than the scary world around him?'. Karl didn't want the 'real world' - like great philosophers before him, he was seeking a world beyond this one. For Plato it was the real of the Forms, for Karl, it was 'the game'. It seemed more real to him as he began to shake with craving for the game, more real than his 3 wolf t-shirt or the interstate flying by, or the Rage music now blaring.

Slowing down and pulling off the highway for some coffee would be the safest thing to do. As he arrived in a random Virginia starbucks he was overwhelmed with how this place too felt like a gateway to escape. Marx would've decried it as the height of Capitalist decadence, and Karl had to agree, that there was something about this place. The ultra-clean environment, the soft jazz, the businessmen and metrosexuals, and the blonde baristas all gave the place the look of a refuge. If Hitler dreamt of a coffee shop this would've been it. Again Karl's thoughts had interrupted the task at hand. Finally, remembering what he was to do, he called the number his GM (guildmaster) put on their forum. As the other line began to ring, Karl realized he only knew the character name his friend used, which was always the same, but was worried it would sound weird to use IRL.

"Hello" said the familiar voice of Karl's Tank 'Xzynog' (pronounced Zee-nog) sounded.
"Hi.. it's Kast, I'm looking for Zee... ?"
To his relief the awkwardness ended and immediately the conversation began rolling. Karl received final directions from Z which he pretended to understand -he'd just follow mapquest- and then finished his Carmel Macchiato.

The only thing Karl was worried about was the smell. He hadn't showered in days and it was noticable, luckily driving cross-country to see friends from an MMORPG is one of the few occasions where stinking is normal.

Within three hours, Karl had arrived. It did not look anything like he'd imagined. Though in fairness, Karl had imagined an antebellum plantation complete with porches on both stories and for some reason a confederate flag. In reality, it was a small house just outside town, and past a few fruit stands/markets that looked operated and lived in by Mexicans. The old white paint was peeling off the wooden siding, and there was a step missing from the front door that made it kind of a leap. As well an angry looking dalmation was tied to the dilapitaded barn-like structure near the back, and it barked as if it would eat Karl at first glance. Aside from that and some flies, it looked a bit deserted. While he began philosophizing on the situation Karl decided he had to disagree with the great Scottish poet who wrote "Suspense is worse than disappointment.". Evidently, Robert Burns had never seen this place before.