Jess is the Red Queen of Spiral Heyeros and her final hour is nigh, and so she cannot sleep a wink for knives wait in shadows, and she definitely cannot on my plane of existence, where the Ordinary rules and its humorless agents observe and dominate all. So, for the time being, she has to be satisfied with another cup of black coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs with toast with preserves while we think our way through this crisis.
I met Jess while playing a game. A computer game.
I should clarify. I met Jess in a computer game, and I use my preposition "in" as literally as possible, in the strong Tron, Narnia, Alice and Wonderland, and Wizard of Oz fashion.
As regards to computer games, I grew up playing 8bit and 16bit consoles, and so I rarely played, properly speaking, what I term "computer games" and "PC games," the kind I met Jess in (although, to be technical, even plastic cartridges inserted into mass-produced gaming systems represent forms of computation (I have to apologize for the non sequiturs. This 1930s type-writer I'm banging these memories out on does not have a delete key. And I don't have time to edit the manuscript. And, when I look around, it's all just shadows and spiral-fire coming fast, and there's no subtle editor in sight, but plenty of paper, so you'll have to be satisfied with some stylistic idiosyncrasies. Hell, people suffer through Kerouac)).
My dad and my grandfather were both computer technicians, and this was comparably rare in the 80s (which means I only had a couple of other friends on the street who had computer techs as dads), and then, as compared to today, when everyone has some modicum of computer literacy, computer technicians were busy. User-friendly, intuitive machines were being disseminated; but, for the most part, personal computers were still business machines except to the rare enthusiast who either ordered games from the local computer store or even programmed them himself (or herself, excuse me). Anyway, in typical "the cobbler's children have no shoes" fashion, my dad never got around to building my brother and I a computer for early 80s computer gaming, although he talked about it often, and even more so after Howie passed in '89 (Let's pass over my kid brother's death for now. Typewriter paper makes horrible tissues).