Written by Major Asselin and Morgan Hallett. Trademark of Asselin & Hallett Productions. Do not copy or reproduce. Visit www.snakepeople.net/syntax/syntax.html for more information.

Syntax Error 
By Major Asselin and Morgan Hallett

Chapter One:
Green Smoke


     	Welcome to the fair city of Boldhome. Please choose a path: You may go North, South, East or West. To the East is pawn shop; to the North is a path that winds its way through the town proper; to the South is a path exiting the city; to the West is the Thieves Guild. What is your next action my lord? (n, s, e, w)

     	Geoff Hendricks saw his reflection in the computer monitor staring back at him. Dark hair hanging in his green eyes reflecting the screen. His long lean frame arched over the keyboard, fingers ready and waiting for the next keystroke. Rings of smoke blown from his lips with precision float through the hot dry air exploding and dissipating against the monitor. He could see beads of sweat reflecting, rolling down his cheek through the slightest sign of hair growth. For the first time ever, he may have to shave. What a dreary concept. Rubbing his chin and crushing his cigarette into the ashtray, he flicked his hair from his face, typing quickly with his right hand.

	North.

	North it be sir! To your west is the news paper stand with all the best local news, to the east is the bank, and to the north is the path exiting our fair city, and of course the path to the south would bring you back, whence you came. Your choice lord? (n,s,e,w)

	West.

	West it be lord! If you like to buy a paper, the price is 5 gold pieces. Otherwise you may choose a path: To the nort...

 	Before it could finish:  Buy paper.

	We have your paper right here lord. Would you like to read it ? (y,n)

	Yes. But really, no.

    	Geoff didn't really have to think about what was to come next. Already disappointed in himself for such a foolish error, thanks mostly to his incompetent left hand that tended to miss keystrokes frequently. He had died, and wanted to see if anyone had shared his same misery within the game. At least in this, he would feel better.

     	A wonderful young man bit the dust today, of level 11, and a Paladin no less! Syntax was utterly slaughtered by a pack of marauding wolves straying too far from the Castle of Ice. In other news, a boastful sprite of a thief named Griselda was poked through his gully whats in what we like to call a shish-ka-bob moment. In other news...

      	It was as if the computer was mocking him. Of all the preprogrammed responses for death, and the news of death, the computer faux-randomized favorite, 'biting of the dust'. How proper it seemed. One level behind now, he would have to play for several days to make it up, to bring him back to the level he was at before his untimely demise. At about 12 hours per level after 10, thats nothing to sneeze at. Was it worth it? Of course it was, Geoff thought to himself, darting a glance at his Santa Cruz skate board in the corner longingly. The finest board built this year. Thinking to himself.  Well at least in May of 83'.

	Geldadar enters Boldhome,  Flickered to life on the screen stealing his attention.

	Geldadar says to you::hey man, gonna quit again today?:: The screen pulsed green again, the word 'quit' burning in his eyes.

     	The message from Geldadar was his best friend: Brian Quaile, in disguise of course, mimicking his true self in the game. The irony is, that he is indeed a master thief in the flesh. Geoff has always thought Brian very annoying, as he talks his way almost in and out of anything. Even after being blown off by Geoff for the last three nights just to be by himself, Brian has never showed any signs of disloyalty. Although having problems relating to his friends, Brian in particular, he has always been there for Geoff, even during his darkened bouts of depression, and hermit like symptoms. 

	Syntax replies ::I didn't even think about it once. Honest:: Shanking his head, He couldn't help but to smile.

	Geldadar says to you ::your reading the paper about your death, and it only happened 5 minutes ago, and you have probably smoked half a pack of camels while holding your hand over the power button::

	Syntax replies ::you are sooo wrong dude. You have no idea.:: 

	 Brian was right though, He had almost deleted his character three times in the last half hour, not counting the time between loading zones that he ejected the disk and opened his window, swearing to throw it out if it did not produce a better grade of entertainment.

	Geldadar says to you ::your full of shit man. Listen, I met someone on here, you have to meet him.::A mere sixteen people were allowed on the node at one time, two of which were Brian, and himself. He hesitated his response and ran his fingers through his dark brown mop of hair, scratching the fuzz at the nape of his neck. Reaching over to the half empty pack of smokes, the flame reflecting in his green eyes as he lit another one. He slid his chair closer to the window to blow the smoke out. Not like anyone would notice, or care. Who would be in the house that would give a shit, that is not drunk, or sleeping?

	Syntax Replies ::Tell me its not another one of your, “I swear, its not my cousin this time” things.::

	Geldadar says to you ::Dude.::Having smoked constantly since dialing in, Geoff knew he has a terrible habit, but he often uses it as an excuse to get away from the game. Saving the telephone technology world can wait a second, to be sure. Geoff glances around his room briefly, rubbing his wrist from the hours of playing on the computer. On the wall to his right and above the computer hangs the image of the very same object, an IBM XT product advertisement poster, that one of his computer friends had given him. On the other side, a ripped and torn Iggy Pop and the Losers poster. Sliding the keyboard tray in, Geoff smiles, remembering how those rips got there.

     	Reaching over with his left hand absentmindedly, Geoff extends his sore wrist with a slight wince and types “BRB” on the keyboard, signifying that he would indeed, Be Right Back. There are more important things to do after all, like smoke, and imagine a better life. As he blew the smoke out, he looked back into his room from the sill of his open window. The smoke traveled slowly into the dull green glow of his computer; his pride and joy that is the IBM PCXT. The beautiful green ANSI characters lit up the screen as people logged on to the MUD (Multi User Dungeon), and the text sprawled across the screen, splashing its luminescent colors against the far wall. The reflections played in the light of the half built project arcade game piled next to his bed that he had been working on. Ashing his cigarette, Geoff followed the green lights, imagining better things in better places, maybe even in the fantasy realm of Boldhome.

     	The breeze outside was almost too much and it was drying out his eyes mixed with the lingering smoke. The green text on the monitor was starting to flicker now and needed his attention anyways. Flicking the cigarette out the window and securing it closed, he spun his chair back towards the computer, giving the game a bit more of his direct attention. 

	Geldadar says to you ::What! Jesus man. Alright::
	Geldadar says to you ::No don't go, he is pretty cool!::
	Geldadar says to you ::You suck.::
	Geldadar says to you ::I will name a pony Geoff, then geld it in your honor.

	He smirked at the screen. Funny.

	Geldadar says to you ::If you smoked as much as you studied, maybe you'd pass Biology.::

	Scrolling down.
	
	TheCatofValor says to you ::I've been watching you.::

     	Reaching for the pack of smokes and cracking the window again, this caught Geoff's attention more than any of the snide remarks of Brian's ever could. Who was this? The “friend” that Brian mentioned? Shock was not the word for what just happened here. Geoff adjusted his arms to ease the pain in his wrist to type a hasty response.

	Syntax Replies ::Ha ha, you have eh?::

     	No more than a second went by, which seemed like an eternity. The screen flashed again.

	TheCatofValor says to you ::I have. Reading about your own death in the paper is pretty morbid don't you think? Syntax? Is that name significant or something?:: 	 Syntax, my MUD and BBS (Bulletin Board System) handle, of course it had significance! Why would anyone ask this kind of question anyways? Playing on this BBS for three months, and no one so much as asked him either way.

	Syntax Replies ::Of course it does! Who are you anyway?:: 

	Geoff thought as he typed, taking a hard drag from his trusty Camel cigarette, not to mention having to rewrite that particular last sentence five times, in five seconds. Syntax indeed, he screwed up more than he typed it seemed. The cursor blinked as the next message burst onto the screen with a bright flash.

	TheCatofValor says to you :: Do you often make syntax errors? Are you accident prone? You seem paranoid, you may drink too much coffee for your age. Ha ha.::For the first time Geoff may have thought someone has went too far with him on this particular BBS. Does this person who he is? Does he or she know he is barely 16, has no life, makes typing errors due to a bad wrist, and so on? Lets plan this out.

	Syntax Replies :: You have sure figured me out. Are you a female or a male?:: Who would be so brash to assume so much. Harassment can get you kicked off the BBS, and your status in the game revoked, which is why Geoff has always been so careful what to say and what not to say. It would be a shame to have to pay for a service, then lose it, and your money. The screen flickered again.

	TheCatofValor says to you :: Female, Of course.  I've watched you play the game. Your always by yourself, Your always alone. Why not play with other people? Are you ever in need of company?::

     	That hit a sore spot. Of course he had friends and needed company on a regular basis, he is just, well shy. Readjusting himself in his chair, Geoff feels himself sweating much more than he would like to. Being uncomfortable talking to someone like this really had him sweating through his clothes. He decided to take off his shirt, re-reading the last sentence to groom a response. 

     	Syntax replies ::Its just not my thing. I'm shy.:: 

	Geoff typed as his skating left index finger hit enter rather hard. Throwing his discarded shirt on the ground, his emotions permitted him from saying anything else. At one point he thought to himself: What the hell am I doing? Why would I tell a nobody that I'm shy? What the hell does it matter? So what if I'm shy. Hopefully I'm not talking to owner of the BBS or the DM (Dungeon Master), or this person would know who I am in real life. Thats very unlikely. Maybe I should just talk to her and tell her what really is wrong with me. Whats the harm in it really? She would never know my real identity.

	TheCatofValor says to you :: So am I, but not on here. On here its so easy to be who I want to be, like I'm playing a role in a movie, or a leading part in a Broadway production. Please talk to me like you want to talk to me, and I promise I will do the same.::

     	Fair enough, giving an agreeing nod.

     	Syntax replies ::My home life is what you would say is.. .dysfunctional. I live mostly by myself, and I take care of myself and the house I live in for the last 	couple years. Although being alone can be depressing, I have not committed suicide.....yet.:: 
	
	Slamming the keyboard tray in, Geoff took the biggest hit of his smoke, he has ever dared, burning it right into the filter. A feeling of relief comes over him, finally getting some things off his chest, he exhaled the smoke directly into the glare of the green fringed monitor, letting his mind explore in thought. The truth hurts, but its the truth and it was not meant to feel good. I just told some stranger that I have never  met, more than I have told any other living being in my entire life. I may have stretched the suicide thing a bit. I've thought about it, but would never actually do it because of the inconvenience it would be to my friends, and the teachers who depend on me.

	TheCatofValor says to you ::Its seems as if you have troubles. I too know what its like not to talk to anyone, or to be loved. This is my escape. If you want to, please tell me more.::

	Amazing! After Geoff dropped the emotion bomb on the community of “Scepter of Goth”,  not only is she not turned off, but she wants to talk more, to listen, to care for him. Excitedly Geoff reaches for the ashtray he knows is there but ashes hot red embers onto his desk. Slamming his hands all over, looking to spread the ashes and keep them from burning anything, Geoff's sore left wrist catches onto the external disk drive he had connected earlier that night, and the release for the drive opens, ejecting the disk reading 'Scepter of Goth', ending his access to the game. 

    	 “Damn it!” Geoff roars, standing up from his seat, rubbing his wrist and aiming his next bout of swearing at the unresponsive computer. “What luck!, fucking figures!” He puts the disk back in and closes the clasp, securing it in the drive and presses enter.
	
	/Syntax Error/Rebooting now

     	“Unbelievable.” Still rubbing his wrist, Geoff throws open the big double windows from his second story bedroom, letting all the smoke out, allowing the wind to blow through his hair and wash away his latest frustration. Walking over to the computer, he punches the power key, shutting down his heavily altered system until he needs it next. No use wasting good burning time after all.

     	His green eyes, mixed with blood shot red from lack of sleep and hours of smoking play over the room as an urge hits him almost instantly, fueled by the conversation with TheCatofValor, walks directly over to the Santa Cruz Board laying in the corner, and has to skate. Grabbing his board and pulling a shirt over his head, Geoff glides three-at-a-time skipping down the spiral steps, and into the hallway next to the garage, only stopping to press the garage door opener. Flicking a switch next to the door, the bright white lights of the massive garage make him squint. Skate ramps litter the garage floor, empty cigarette packs line an abandoned work bench next to the two covered cars at the far end, the restored variants of his step-father's favorite car, a Monza Corvair. So overlooked by Chevy, his step-dad had always said. Too bad someone wrote a book about it, “Unsafe at Any Speed”.

     	Three other junked cars lay by the wayside within the garage, rusted out old monsters, cars of years gone by, ate up by the salty roads of the frozen north. Two cars he knew as a Dodge Challenger, and a Dodge GTX, and the other, oh, and the other. The worst condition of all was his favorite, the under dog of all five cars in the garage. Under appreciated, and under loved. The old beater sat all by its self just like him, so of course he liked it the best. Putting his skateboard on the floor, he pushed off from the wall, rolling towards his only other dream besides now TheCatofValor, was the 1968 SS Camaro. The rustiest model ever.

     	“More rust than car!” His step dad said when he had it towed into the garage. It received the least attention, and the only thing he had ever done to it was put a new battery in it, and take the tires off to hang them against the wall. 'The tires and rims are worth more than the car.' He could hear his step father proclaiming. Opening the door with a loud metal on metal creak, Geoff's sleeve rubbed on the outside of the car leaving a dark brown smudge of rust and dirt. So many times has he smoked with the windows down in this dingy ride, thinking of how he would someday drive it to school, to the beach with his friends, or with a girlfriend, his thoughts swirled. Oh what a notion that would be, after all; Geoff had asked multiple times for a car and got a computer instead, his step-brother on the other hand had asked only once and got a used Delorean the very next day, one of the last ones to roll out of the factory. They look like cars a drug dealer would drive into San Jose, Geoff thought to himself, smoking the remainder of his cigarette, putting it out between the ripped and torn seats where he had nudged an ashtray almost a year ago. His foot accidentally brushed the break peddle getting out of the car, splashing a red light against the wall behind to the outdated dinosaur/Camaro. Hey, At least the breaks worked. He had seen the engine several times before in his mindless wanderings, it was clean, rebuilt and the only thing new in the car at all besides the ashtray he had installed between the seats.

     	Board down, Geoff skated in circles until midnight, reminiscing about his previous typed conversation with his mystery lady. Who could she be? Why does she find me so interesting. I think I'm about the most dull person I have ever met. If there was anything that would draw me to someone, what would one of the qualities be? I need to open up more and let people know how I feel. My chest hurts. Those two bushes in the front yard are shaped like breasts and I never noticed before. A half hour past midnight, Geoff dragged two quarter pipes into the driveway, setting them up end to end, like a make shift half pipe he sees so often at the skate park being built next to the Pizza Time where he works. Swiftly he climbs up to the top of one end, dropping down into the ramp with his board, doing rotation after rotation, up and down the ramp, over and over until his feet and legs hurt so bad he can't take but one more turn. He has not felt this free in a long time, skating until his chest hurts from the smoking, from the exhaustion has a painful satisfaction to it. So many night has he done this,just smoking, thinking, and skating. 

	“Thought you might be out skating, been trying to call you since you disappeared from the game” a voice familiar said from the darkness.

	Geoff answered not looking up from the pavement.“What's up Brian?” Brian didn't live far which made it easy for him to make unexpected drop ins. He rolled up on his skateboard, climbing to the top of the half pipe and descending trying to impress. After a few rotations he coasted over to Geoff and lit a Camel cigarette.

	“I can only hang for a second, my dad's on the warpath, so I snuck out the window.” he handed the cigarette to Geoff. “He says if I don't started getting my grades up he'll ground me for life! Bunch of bullshit!” Brian's father was a good standing member of the Sunnyvale community, also an alumni of their school and wanted Brian to follow in his footsteps., but Brian wasn't exactly the model student or son.

	Taking a drag he handed to smoke back to him “Yeah, me too” Geoff trying to relate and humor at the same time, as Brian had the knack for rambling on if given the chance. 

	Tossing the cigarette out into the drive, “Alright man, better get back before 'King Dick' finds out I'm gone” Brian said as he pushed off down the drive towards the darkness. “See your ass tomorrow then”.
	
	“Later on” Geoff shouted out into the night relieved this visit was only a short one and climbed back up the half pipe for another run. At nearly one AM, Geoff continues on, practicing tricks, skating routines, spinning around and preforming ollies over miscellaneous objects littered around the garage. Finally, after the last fall of the night, and the pain in his chest turned to burning, he called it a night. Grabbing a towel out of the laundry room,  he walked from the garage to the kitchen,  he took a Tab out of the fridge and headed toward the stairs, noticing light flicking from the TV in the living room.

     	The light in the darkness is satisfying and comforting, but the scene on the couch cuts through all of that; his mom, half naked on the couch, her makeup smudged and an empty bottle of Club brand premixed Manhattan in her hand. This being the third time this week, Geoff has seen it before and planned to do absolutely nothing to move her, as she would get violent. As he walked back to his room, Geoff threw the towel over her sleeping body, and removed the empty bottle from her hand, shaking the last few drops from the bottle into his own mouth before he dropping it in the trash. Reaching for the remote, he stared at the screen delivering the updated news of an earthquake and tsunami that happened in Japan killing over a hundred people. He shook his head pressing down the power button to turn it off. 'It's bad all over', Geoff thought to himself as the TV powers down in a tingle of static. Heavy lidded, he drug his weary body upstairs for an attempt at sleep, looking to his computer dreaming about the new mystery girl in his life, whom he only knows through a haze of green tinted glass, and a ring of smoke.