Chapter Thirty-Three
Inside the Davies’ twenty by thirty-foot Mediterranean-style living room, a
forty-two inch, 3-D, LED, flat screen blared. Tommy, age thirteen, had turned
it on shortly after arriving home from his best friend’s house. He was hoping
he’d be able to watch this week’s episode of Tech TV before supper was ready.
However, before the flat screen had a chance to warm up, his cell phone rang.
Mom’s calling? For a fraction of a second, Tommy held his iPhone in front of him and stared at the picture on its three-inch screen as if he were in a trance. She should have been home by now. I wonder what’s keeping her?
Pressing the phone’s circular answer button and its external speaker button, “Hi, Mom,” he said, holding the screen close so he’d have a good view of her and possibly figure out where she was. “What’s up? Why aren’t you home yet?”
“I needed to make a quick stop on my way in,” Carol replied with a slight smirk. “As if what I do and when I do it is really any of your concern. … Is your father home?”
Tommy took a quick look around him and then rose from in front of the couch where he had been sitting, before heading toward the window so he could check the driveway. “Nope. I don’t think so. I don’t see his Prius.”
“Hmm. I hope he didn’t have to work late, after all today’s …” Carol then paused in mid-sentence as if she had remembered something. “Tommy. I know it’s not your bedtime, but I need you to stop whatever you’re doing and go take a shower.”
“Take a shower? At this time of the day?” Tommy gazed at his mother like she had cursed at him. “Why, Mom?”
“Because I want you to be clean when we go out tonight. Have you forgotten what day today is, son?”
Tommy grinned from ear-to-ear. “No way. But I had no idea that you and Dad were planning to take me out. … By the way, would you like to guess what Billy got me for my birthday?”
“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea,” Carol replied after a moment of dead silence. “A video game?”
Tommy looked at her and frowned. “Ah, Mom. You already knew. Didn’t you? Did Mrs. Molinaro tell you?”
Carol laughed. “No. But I had a suspicion when she called a few days ago and asked what type of games you liked. So which one did she get you? I hope it wasn’t …”
“Alien Warfare,” Tommy answered before his mother could finish.
“Alien Warfare? Shoot!” The raised tone Carol’s used clearly indicated she wasn’t happy. “I hope you haven’t opened it yet. Have you, Tommy? We need to exchange it. There is no way I want a son of mine playing a game like that. It’s way too gory and violent for kids your age. You don’t need that kind of negative influence. … Why do you think we bought you Sim City last Christmas?”
Tommy shuddered at the memory. “Because I was still twelve? … You do know, Mom; that game was so b-o-r-i-n-g that after playing twice, I deleted the stupid thing from my computer.”
“You deleted it?” A moment of silence transpired. “That’s odd. Your dad and I installed a copy of it on our PC soon after you installed it on yours, and we’re still playing it. Why would anyone want to delete it? It’s a fun game, and you learn a few good management skills.”
Tommy grimaced. “Mom, it’s mega-boring. There’s no action in it. All you do is set up a city and hope it grows instead of getting wiped out. … Kids my age don’t care about stuff like that.”
“Okay,” Carol conceded. “I can see where someone your age might not find it interesting. So, did you and Billy play Alien Warfare yet?”
Tommy looked down, picked up its cardboard box and smiled while rereading its cover. “Sure did Mom. We played it over at his house until it was time to come home. It’s a seriously cool game. You get to fight some really weird-looking aliens and watch their ships blow apart during the space battles. … You should see it, especially while wearing 3-D glasses. It’s unbelievable.”
Carol chuckled at her son’s enthusiasm, then noticed the flashing incoming call icon on her phone. “I can see you really like the game. Unfortunately son, I’m going to have to go now. Your father’s on the other line so I need to hang up. Just hurry up, take a shower, and get properly dressed so we can go to a decent restaurant – and I’m not talking about McDonald’s.”
“Aw Mom,” Tommy whined, reaching for the TV’s remote. “I like Mickey D’s. And since it’s my birthday, why can’t we go where I want to?”
“Believe me, you’ll like where we are going Tommy. I promise,” Carol replied. “Now get yourself ready and your Dad and I should be home shortly.”
Tommy’s phone then clicked and a screen showing the number of minutes he and his mother had conversed soon appeared.
“Parents!” he exclaimed, pushing the “off” button on the remote.
However, before the TV went dim. “And in today’s software news, Krypton Software is currently facing an extremely detrimental problem with their latest best-selling game, Alien Warfare. Apparently ….”
Hearing part of what the announcer said, Tommy quickly pressed the remote’s “On” button. However, since the TV screen had already turned black and it took a second for the set to come back on – by the time it did, the Tech TV announcer was finishing the news story with a final comment about Alien Warfare’s worldwide weekly sales. It had been exceeding one hundred thousand copies ever since its release.
*****
Along the eastern Appalachian slopes bordering Hidden Valley, Tennessee, a lone eagle glided in the sunny crystal clear blue skies – totally unaware that several hundred feet below in a dark plexiglás multistory building on the outer parameter of where he was carelessly sailing, top management had called an emergency meeting, and a major corporate hurricane was starting to brew.
“Are the reports true?” Allen Sharp, Krypton Software’s CEO asked, looking grimmer than a corpse when he rose to his feet the second Tom Steel, George Witherspoon, and Mike Furrow entered his penthouse-style office and took a seat. “If they are, our company could be ruined.”
Tom Steel, Krypton Software’s president, briefly fidgeted in his seat, before glancing at the two gentlemen who had followed him in. His lips, then slightly parted. However, not the slightest sound was uttered.
Mike Furrow, Krypton’s Software-Development Chief then answered, “I’m afraid they are. It seems like when we converted …”
Mike then stopped speaking and turned to face Tom and George, who had turned pale.
“Converted?” Mr. Sharp’s eyebrows rose. “What specifically do you mean by ‘converted’, Mr. Furrow?”
Mike’s mouth opened as if he was surprised. “Converted? Did I say converted, Mr. Sharp? I’m sorry; I misspoke. I meant to say, when we coded Alien Warfare.”
A few wrinkles appeared on Allen’s forehead. “That is not what you said Mr. Furrow. You specifically used the word ‘converted’.” He then shifted backwards and commenced to stare at the three gents in front of him. “Would one of you please tell me exactly what is going on? I hope it’s surely not what I’m beginning to think it is.”
Tom gazed at his boss and began to sink inside his seat faster than a ship stuck in an inescapable whirlpool, while George proceeded to gaze at the perforated holes in the ceiling tiles. Mike, not really knowing how best to respond, quickly glanced at his two cohorts and then started to whistle a funeral dirge.
“Gentlemen?” Allen said through narrowed eyes.
“Should I tell him?” Mike eventually asked. Uncertainty clearly showed in his face as he looked at Tom.
“I really don’t think we have a choice,” George Witherspoon, V. P. of Marketing, inserted before the company president replied.
For a moment, Tom stared at his fellow executives and then involuntary gulped, before turning to face Krypton’s CEO. The time for a full confession had unfortunately arrived. However, before it had a chance to be conveyed, Allen Sharp’s phone suddenly rang and the accompanying call waiting message on his phone’s gray screen was displaying the name of one of their corporate attorneys.
“Hello, Stan,” Allen said with a frown as he lifted the receiver to his right ear. “What possibly could be so important that you’ve decided to call me on my hotline?”
The answer was immediately given and within milliseconds, all blood on the surface of the CEO’s face drained. “A five billion-dollar class-action lawsuit. … we’re history!”
*****
“Thanks for the swell dinner, Mom … Dad,” Tommy exclaimed before entering the hallway which led into his bedroom. “We haven’t been to Chuck E. Cheese for so long, I had forgotten about the place. … Thanks for taking me – and for the neat remote control airplane. I love it and can’t wait to try it out first thing tomorrow morning.”
Both Carol and Bob smiled as they observed the overwhelming glow radiating from their son’s face.
“You’re welcome,” Carol said with a smile.
Bob also displayed an ear-to-ear grin as he watched Tommy pass through his bedroom doorway and take a seat at his computer. Seconds later, his son could be seen placing his new Alien Warfare disk inside the system’s DVD player.
“Mom!” Tommy screamed in a blood-curling yelp from the far back bedroom as his clock stuck nine p.m. “We’ve got an emergency! Call 911. My computer’s on fire.”
“Your computer’s on fire?” Bob literally jumped out of his tan lounge chair and raced toward the oncoming smoke escaping from his son’s bedroom – only pausing long enough to grab the extinguisher Carol obtained from underneath their kitchen’s sink.
“Yes Dad, it is,” Tommy howled as if he was watching the “Twin Towers” when they were about to collapse. “Hurry. Get in here.”
The instant Bob entered Tommy’s bedroom; he noticed the unusual plastic and electronics burning type of smell and turned towards his son’s computer desk. Trails of wispy gray smoke were pouring out of every single crevice his son’s rectangular-shaped desktop computer had.
Within microseconds, Bob unplugged and coated it with a thick white fire retardant.
“So what exactly where you doing when your PC started smoking?” he asked several minutes later as he and Tommy proceeded to take the charred electronic remains outside.
“Nothing special Dad,” Tommy sheepishly replied. “While playing Alien Warfare, three alien ships had almost completely destroyed my battle cruiser, so I decided that if I was going to die – I would take them with me. So I hit the ship’s “Self Destruct” button. … That’s when my computer instantly went crazy and burnt itself up.”
Bob turned and looked at his son, and his eyes burned with fury. How dare someone sell such destructive software! They could have easily killed someone … specifically, my son!