Pinball (2001)

A person's walk changes somewhat, depending on where they're headed. The walk to the arcade is brisk, the kind in which your head plays the diligent helmsman to your cruising bobby gait. This is the walk that they take every night after dinner, to play their favorite game.

As the pair took the last corner, John's pace tightened up, his steps changing from his regular thuds to snappy clicks. Sally momentarily swung her gaze towards him, a small display of a forehead frown. She made do, even being shorter and wearing heels. John just kept his eyes on the normal, two steps ahead on unmarked concrete, occasionally checking distance with a glance at the dim red lights spelling ARCADE.

An amalgam of noise covered most of the open room, explosions large and small, recorded voices booming excitement. But they weren't interested in the normal machines. John led the way through narrow aisles of video screens, and led her through with him, by the hand.

And there it was, silent, unmoving, pinball, the game they had come to play and would continue to come back to for some time. I had seen it once. Medieval Madness seems a bit hokey, and certainly doesn't look much, but to know the feel of the flippers makes it something more. John put in the first quarter and Madness came alive with a deep gong and a hearty welcome from the medieval host. He flipped three more in like a pro, once after the other into the slot, his right hand working like gears, flawless. The small video screen blinked, "2 Credits". "Put in another dollar, we can get the extra play." Sally shoved her hands into her pockets. "I think just one play today."

"OK. I'll go first. I'm feeling it." John rolled his sleeves while Sally leaned against the side of the machine, head down, eyes on the launch ramp. The heavy looking ball raced up, then made leisurely bounces on padded bumpers.

"Aw yeah! Skill shot sweetness." The sounds start like overlapping wave crests, each reaching over the last, craving attention. It flows smoothly from ramp, to paddle, to bumpers and targets, to paddle, and back up a ramp. Then it comes. Up the middle at last time and the castle drawbridge comes down. Again, the gate this time. "Good job. One more and you got the castle. Yeah! Go Johnny!" And the shot goes back up, John's trained paddle lofting it back up like a gentle caress. It eases its way, past the now ruined gate, disappears and the results are visible.

And the plastic castle shudders, it's towers mechanically staggering. Sally straitened and looked over to her Johnny to see him looking back and wipe his palms against the front of his jeans. And it was like that every time. Every time until the shudders past, the machine could compose itself and regain an exaggerated voice. Then the ball came out again, to see if he could entice himself back through the castle gates.