Side Story: Kon the Gamer

 

 

 

Side Story: Kon the Gamer

 

IT was a quiet afternoon with very little going on. I’d already finished all the morning housework and made lunch. Kon and I were sitting in the living room with the TV on in the background, only half paying attention.

A commercial came on and suddenly, Kon was transfixed. He watched it with intense focus, his gaze both excited and filled with longing. I thought he was going to get sucked right into the screen. The commercial was for a popular video game system, and Kon seemed almost beside himself with the desire to get his hands on one. When the commercial was over, he let out a small gasp of a sigh.

“Do you like video games, Kon?” I asked, tilting my head.

Kon’s ears perked up and his tail stood at attention.

“Yeah, I do!” he shouted back.

“Really? I’ve never seen you playing any, though,” I noted. “Not even once.”

With that observation, the young chipmunk’s perky ears and tail wilted into a dejected droop.

“I like them, but I don’t get to play much…” he said, rather crestfallen. “Mommy hates video games… I’m not allowed to have any at home, and Mommy’s always grouchy when I go and play them at a friend’s house. …And since our paws are really small, we can’t hold controllers very well. Even if I could buy my own game system, I won’t be able to until I’m all grown up. It’s the same for a lot of my friends.

“Parents are always sayin’ games are bad for your health ’n’ make you lazy and stupid…but Ken has a system, and he’s really smart and full of energy…”

Kon flopped down on the tatami mat floor, bemoaning the clear contradiction illustrated by his friend. I watched him roll back and forth as he tried to vent his frustration. After a little thought, I slowly got up, went to my bedroom, and dug out my old work bag.

This satchel had been my daily companion back at my old job and was filled with a variety of equipment I used for work. Not only that, but hidden among all the office supplies, there were also a few items that helped me pass the time during long journeys on public transport and the bullet train. Among these was a portable video game system with a large built-in touch screen display—the very same one that’d just been shown on TV.

I powered it on to check the remaining battery life. There was definitely enough juice left to play some games. I took the system back to the living room with me and casually sat back down on my cushion, holding the device as if I were about to start playing so that Kon would definitely notice.

When he did, he totally lost his mind. He was up on his feet in a flash, his arms quivering as he waved them around.

“What? WHAAAT?” he yelled. “Mikura, you have that console?! And it’s the newest one! Not even Ken has that one! H-How many games have you got? Do you buy cartridges or downloads? Did you get all the big games? I… I… Can I…”

Kon was in a complete verbal spiral.

“Can I play too?!” he finally managed to blurt out. “Please, Mikura! Please, please, please!”

Kon rushed over to me and climbed up onto my knees, where he could see the screen of the device I was holding. Then he started alternately looking up into my face and back down at the screen. The little guy was just about ready to explode.

Seeing him so excited, I laughed despite myself and selected a game that could be played with just the touchscreen—that way, his small paws wouldn’t pose a problem. Once the game had loaded up, I surrendered the console to Kon.

“Now listen,” I said. “I don’t want any trouble from your mom, so we can’t have you playing games all day long. You have to keep up your good work at the orchard. Make sure you keep helping out at home. You definitely mustn’t neglect your studies… And please, make sure you spend some of your time playing outside as well…

“In short, if you can prove to me that the grown-ups are wrong, that video games aren’t going to make you lazy and stupid, then I can lend you my game system from time to time. How does that sound? Do we have a deal?”

Kon looked me right in the eye, dead serious, and nodded vigorously. Then he scrunched up his eyes and beamed at me before shouting again at the top of his little lungs.

“Thank you, Mikura!”