The Last Pac-Man on the Island
Originally there were four Pac-Mans. Four upright
consoles in painted wooden cabinets. They were salvaged by the navy
after they sank a floating casino that thought it was in international
waters and failed to bribe appropriately.
The machines, being encased in wood, surfaced
before the bodies, water foaming off of the yellow face.
The buoyant boxes were netted and paddled in by
cadets riding lifeboats. Upon returning to the island the
mysterious cargo was taken to El Palacio del Pueblo and presented to El
Presidente.
"¿Pac-man?" he read around his cigar.
When they were plugged in only one of them
worked. El Presidente had the working unit brought to his
office. He dismissed his adjutants and, when alone, studied the
curious box. He paced before it, hands behind his back, eying it
warily, as if it might strike. It began to beep cheery tinny
music. A yellow smile similar to the one painted on the side of
the cabinet ran across the video screen, chased by four differently
colored shapes. The yellow face swallowed a large white dot and
suddenly the tables turned. The shapes which he now recognized as
ghosts, turned blue with fright and fled.
Intrigued, he toggled the red k¡nob that
protruded from the console--- nada.
The red slot in the foot of the machine began to
flash red: 25. 25.
¡Caramba!
He removed from his desk a cigar box full of yanqui
dinero.
The large coin with the curly haired man fit into
the slot. The box began to sing and the face of El Presidente lit
up as if confronting a Christmas tree. The box was a game!
He played long into the night, until his coins ran
out. He scored 200,000 points.
He was so proud that he couldn't help but show it
off when the head Rusqui came through for inspection.
"What is it?" the diplomat asked thickly.
"It's a game, señor."
"Da? I want it."
El Presidente frowned through his beard.
"¿Why don't you take one of the
broken ones?"
The Rusqui said: "There are more?"
<> El Presidente had commissioned the other
three to
the lab for analysis and, if possible, repair. But when he and
the visiting politico went to the basement del Palacio the machines
were not to be found.
"¡Qué lastima!"
Two of them would eventually be recovered, summarily
cleaned up and shipped out, to much grumbling from El
Presidente. They were found in a barren cane field, a foot deep
in mud. Next to them lay the bodies of two men with holes in the
backs of their necks. The machines had been on their way to the
island's vast black market but had been stopped.
One Pac-Man made it all the way, arriving in the the
hands of the operator of the largest casino on the island.
Peróns was frequented almost exclusively by the wealthy
smugglers who made their living sneaking people off of the
island. The smugglers kept the existence of their club a secret,
even from El Presidente.
The problem with "El Paquero" or "El Pacombre," as
the machine would come to be affectionately called, was that it was
still broken.
To fix this Peron contracted Constenable, the finest
mechanic on the island. Constenable was legendary for his ability
to maintain classic cars from Los Estados Unidos with parts from
dissimilar Yugoslavian autos.
"Of course I can fix it," Constenable said.
The first thing that he repaired was the power
source, which had shorted out when the original, floating casino
sank. He used the electrical cord and other parts from the club's
television. The human smugglers complained until Perón
shot them his look. A smuggler brought in a new television soon
enough anyway.
After Constenable disabled the coin slot the
smugglers took turns playing the game; one man to El Paquero while the
others watched. They sweated when the colored ghosts closed
in and cheered when El Pacombre took the magic pill and ate them in a
row. They cried when the little yellow mouth turned inside-out,
frowning, and died. It was a beautiful experience. They played
until the monitor exploded, which happened pretty quickly. The
makeshift power source from the TV was insufficient and
over-amped. When this happened Peron and the smugglers pulled
Constenable of out his bed at gunpoint and had him fix the
machine. He used from the television to replace the screen.
This was difficult because the original screen was a CRT monitor.
But with a lot of paper clips, solder and wires from the dash of his
own Studebaker, Constenable was able to make it work. It was a
miracle, but the game could now only be played in monochrome. It
was difficult to tell the ghosts apart, but it was good enough until
the smugglers could bring in a color TV to replace
it.<>
This kept the mechanic alive for nearly a year until the main circuit
board burnt out because the system was still overloaded. There
was nothing Constenable could do to fix that.
So the last Pac-Man on the island sits silently
in the basement of Peróns club. All the electronics, the
monitor, the joystick, have been gutted out. The smugglers
use the empty cabinet as a mini-bar. They set their drinks on it
when they play cards.
This story originally
appeared in LiteLit.