<\/td><\/tr><\/table><\/p>\nIt’s Sunday, and I’m enjoying a rare weekend off. Patrick and I are really into this game called Starflight 2. The game is simply gigantic. It fills up two 360k floppy disks. I’ve encountered two-disk games before, but most of those were titles that were just a little too big for one disk. Starflight 2 completely fills both disks. To start a new game, you make a complete copy of both disks. This copy is your entire save game. Amazing. If this trend continues, then someday we’ll end up with videogames that take up a whole megabyte.<\/p>\n
This game has a lot of content. You fly around the galaxy, meet aliens, explore planets, mine for resources, have space battles, and run trade routes between the alien species. Each alien race has their own artwork and dialog. You can even upgrade your ship and purchase training for your crew. <\/p>\n
“Okay, it’s your turn,” I tell Pat. I’ve just flown out of Starport. The ship is loaded with trade goods, and it’s time for the long trip to the other side of the galaxy so we can sell this stuff. Pat sighs and takes over. <\/p>\n
Upstairs, little Ruthie and Danny are in the living room, having another argument over the TV. Ruthie is in second grade. Danny began kindergarten this year, the year after I graduated. That means there was never a time when all four of us were in school. It will be a total of twenty-six years between the moment when I entered kindergarten and the day Danny graduates. <\/p>\n
I play with the two of them. I tickle Ruthie and wrestle with Danny. Then I make myself a sandwich and head back downstairs. <\/p>\n
Pat has spent the last ten minutes holding down the right arrow key, and is just now arriving at the trading port on other side of the galaxy.<\/p>\n
 <\/td><\/tr><\/table><\/p>\n“Okay, my turn,” I tell him.<\/p>\n What a bastard. Remember that Pat is bigger than me at this point. I have no idea how I got away with this. <\/div>\n Another day at McDonald’s. <\/p>\n I seem to have figured out how to deal with people over the course of the last year. I don’t know if it was due to leaving high school, or getting older, or the circle of friends I made at ICM. Maybe this is a natural result of the slow revelations at Seven Springs. In any case, I’m no longer a nervous stumble-mouth. At some point I noticed that some of my funny thoughts were amusing to others, and some were only amusing to me. I’ve learned to filter out the latter, and I’ve learned to avoid laughing before<\/em> I tell my joke. This does wonders for my social life. As far as I can tell, the key to saying witty things is to say them as if you don’t don’t find them funny yourself. You throw the joke down and walk away like you don’t care. <\/p>\n I’ve gone from social outcast to being almost universally popular. People don’t just like me, they seek my approval. This forms a positive feedback loop: The more people like me, the more confidence I have. The more confidence I have, the better I am socially. <\/p>\n I’ve begun flirting, and this has changed my entire outlook on dating. Before, I didn’t really date because I was nervous to the point of terror when approaching a girl. Asking a girl out on a date has a binary outcome: If it fails, you feel shame and rejection. If it succeeds, you go out on the date and maybe encounter shame and rejection at a later time. I’m naturally risk-averse, so this deal never looked very attractive to me. <\/p>\n This flirting business is much better. If the flirt is rejected, it’s no big deal, because I was just kidding, right? If it’s accepted, then I flirt again and see how she responds. A consistent loop of positive feedback is the signal that it’s probably safe to ask someone out on a date. In fact, it’s almost a test drive of what a date will be like. If she’s not laughing at my jokes and smiling, then I can forget about her. We’re obviously not compatible. This is a far better system than trying to marshal the courage to ask for a date up front. <\/p>\n As I enter the store I nod to the pair of guys working grill, “Mister Thompson, Mister Brady.”<\/p>\n |
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