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Episode 1: Melly
I’m officially Fork76823 but my gaming name is MellyHelly54 and I prefer to be called Melly. My parents and my little bro all call me that, but the Administrators insist on calling me Fork76823. Mom is Fork76715. Dad is Knife76699. I call them Mom and Dad, but their gaming names are ShellLady54 and BillWalker54. My little bro is Knife76875. He’s not actually in the game yet because he’s not old enough, but in the training tables he’s called CooperChill54. 54 is our family number.
I am not officially “in the game” yet either. Not until later today. Today I will officially be a gamer. I’m nervous, but I’ve been in the training tables since I was old enough to run around.
I died so fast at the beginning. I started with one of the older seasons — The Kids Table, it was called. In the first game, I got dropped into the game with a basic weapon. I think it was a celery stick that shot ranch dressing. But before I could even use it, someone shot me in the back of the head and I was back in my room. I was determined, though, and I dropped right back onto the training table.
Of course, I wasn’t really dead. Forks and Knives don’t die. In the training tables, where we are all learning, we just reload.
But in the real games, Mom and Dad said when you die you go to the Reformatting Center. Depending on how you got killed on the table, you could be there for a day or a week, based on how much damage you took.
Mom and Dad said if you win, you get to go to this fabulous big table filled with real food you can eat and other winners, and you never have to go into a game again. All you do is eat and drink and sit around, laughing and having a good time. But you also have to leave your family. Other than that, it’s so perfect; the ultimate reward. Of course, everyone wants to be retired. If Mom and Dad were retired, I would miss them, but they seem to want it so badly, so I’d be happy for them. Personally, I think it sounds kind of boring. I mean, you can only eat so much food, right? And isn’t it kind of like being in a game with all that food?
I’m starting my life as a real gamer today, so it is only a matter of time before I am assigned a partner and get little forks and knives of my own to teach about the game. Until then, I will stay with Mom and Dad.
Cooper would be assigned a new family if they went to the Big Table but I would just get assigned a partner a little sooner than later. If only one of them went to the Big Table, the other would be assigned a new partner, and we’d have a new Mom or Dad. It’s all automatic. The Administrators know what is best for us. That’s one of our mantras. My parents say it all the time, especially if I ask too many questions. Mom and Dad say I ask too many questions sometimes and that I need to learn to accept the life we have. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to keep my doubts and questions to myself because there’s really nothing I can do about it. But that doesn’t stop ideas and questions from entering my mind.
We have a lot of mantras. The rules we live by.
Don’t ask questions.
Play hard; lose with dignity.
Be ready for the next game.
Life is a game so have fun with it.
I have a lot of questions but I can’t help being excited about the game and getting dropped onto my first table. My parents have been preparing me for this for as long as I remember. And they seem to love it. I’m sure I will, too. Right?
As I stand in the foyer, I’m nervous. There seem to be thousands of gamers loading into the lobby, getting ready to jump on the Gravy Boat, but I know there are only 100 players per game. I watch them gush; sometimes solo, sometimes with each other. They dance, do belly bumps, and hold up signs. I’m confused about this because I didn’t see anyone doing this on the training tables, and I wish I knew how to do it, too. The training tables don’t have foyers, though. I just got dropped onto the table and scrambled to stay in the game.
Here though, in the foyer, these people all look like some kind of happy family, with all their gushing. Except the ones running around and shooting weapons at the people running around shooting weapons, or even the ones who aren’t actively shooting at anyone. How can I get them to gush with me?
I don’t have time to think about it for long though, so I make a mental note to ask Mom and Dad or the Administrators about it later. I’ve never actually talked to an Administrator before, but Mom says I will when I go to Reformatting for the first time.
After about a minute of being in the foyer, I find myself on the gravy boat with a pile of gamers yelling, “Jump! Jump!” So, I do. I fall rapidly, sure I am going to die before I even play my first real game. But then my parachute opens and I glide gently onto a mound of spaghetti and meatballs. Now, I understand why this season is called The Italian Feast.
I’m stunned as I look around. To my left is the Pizzeria where all kinds of pizzas are stacked on trays. To my right are hills of gelato — chocolate, strawberry, mango and other flavors. I can see another player sliding down a mound of walnut crunch gelato, picking up a piece of walnut and throwing it in front of him. It lands at the feet of another player, and the words, “Diner JJRok27 eliminated with walnut bomb” flash to the left of my vision.
It’s a lot like the training tables. The food is weapons. To get my own weapon, all I have to do is listen for the sound of a pot banging to find a weapon. As I get closer, it will get louder, and I’ll see the weapon glowing, and then I can pick it up and use it to kill other gamers or defend myself.
I can hear the light banging of a pot now. I move forward, and it stops. I turn and go in the opposite direction, and the sound starts again. I keep moving in the direction of the noise, and it gets louder and louder. Then I see it — a jar with something red inside. I pick it up and see “tiny marinara jar” in my inventory. But what do I do with it? Throw it? Nope. It just lies on the spaghetti mound in front of me. I pick it up again. Maybe I drink it? Yes! I feel stronger, and I see the health bar on the bottom right of my vision increase.
There is another sound of a pot banging. I follow the sound until I see a glowing piece of spaghetti in the pile. I pick it up, and my inventory tells me it is an electric spaghetti lasso.
But then I hear a loud bang and the words “MellyHelly54 eliminated by mushrooming meatball.” Everything goes black.
When I wake up, I’m in an empty room, lying on a bed. I sit up and look for a hint as to where I am. This must be the Reformatting Center. I don’t really feel any different. I thought if I got eliminated from the game, something would hurt. But I feel normal.
Then I hear a voice say, “Please prepare to meet your Administrator.”
The door opens on its own, and there’s a long hallway in front of me. I follow it until another door at the end opens. Inside, it is as white and empty as the room I woke up in, but instead of a bed there’s a desk with a chair in front of it. Behind the desk, there is a man seated in another chair. He’s dressed all in white, and a white mask with flecks of gold covers his face. The Administrator.
“Please have a seat, Fork76823,” he says.
“You can call me Melly,” I say.
“How are you feeling, Fork76823?” he asks. I guess calling me Melly isn’t going to happen.
“I feel ok,” I tell him.
He asks me a lot of questions that I don’t see the point of (how old I am, who my parents are, who my brother is, what my goals in life are, etc.), and then he says, “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes,” I say. “What is that thing they were doing in the foyer? The dancing and stuff? ”
“It’s called gushing,” he says.
I ask, “Yes, but how do I do it? How can I get them to gush with me?”
“Don’t worry about that. Gushing is not for you. Anything else?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No Sir.”
I want to ask him a million things. Like, how can I get better? Why isn’t gushing for me? Can I talk to the other gamers? Where do they live (because I’ve never met anyone other than my mom, dad, and brother; even in the training tables we couldn’t talk to the other players)?
He doesn’t seem open to questions though, even though he asked me if I had questions. There’s nothing specific that tells me that. It’s just his tone of voice. So emotionless and cold.
“Ok. You will stay in your room for the rest of the day and rest. Your damage was minimal so at the end of the day, you can return home. That is all.”
I guess that’s it. The Administrator was not anything like I imagined. I hoped that he would be more…conversational. But he’s not someone I want to talk to for any longer than necessary and I don’t like him. I stand up. I’m eager to leave. The door opens. I guess that’s my signal to leave.
There’s nothing to do in my room but lie there and think.
The game was not what I expected. It wasn’t bad, but I feel like there should be more to it. All my life I’ve been looking forward to entering the tables, and now, I wonder if this is all it is? I guess I had hoped there’d be some sort of interaction between players. I wanted to talk to someone my own age. Someone other than my parents and Cooper.
I close my eyes. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe this is why I have to come to Reformatting in the first place. It’s just a letdown, and I probably need to rest and I’ll be fine tomorrow. The next game will be better.
But will it be? Is this all there really is? Dropping onto a table, dying, and reformatting? I want more. I just don’t know what it is that I want more of.
