I sat down to play Zircon for a few hours until it was dark and I could go to the lord's castle and put an end to him, once, and for all. As soon as the game started, I heard the voice again. The dull monotone voice droned on and soon my eyelids were drooping. I seemed powerless to resist the voice. It said to lean very close to the monitor until my eyes were so close they would no longer focus on the screen. When I got that close I was to press the enter key.
It's always dark in here. Most game players never have a light on in the room. The only glow is the filament of the monitor's picture tube. Sometimes the electron beam warms my back as I stand there waiting for a new player to figure out he should approach me and seek a quest. I exist now as an obelisk in the game of Zircon. If I'm not in the current display, then I'm perpetually cold in the dark. I'm not sure how it all came about.
I remember finding the game Zircon, purchasing it and racing home to install it on my home computer. I remember playing it more and more, getting into the game. It was a rush to have so many new friends and such an exciting activity on nights and weekends. I remember losing sleep, and then I started to sense a communication, a link between the game and me. Then I totally understood what the game was saying to me. I realized Zircon was my only friend, my only link to reality. I committed myself to Zircon and then one evening as I played, evening turned to middle of the night as I sat riveted to the screen, absorbing vibes from this most fascinating of games. I think I fell asleep at the keyboard and when I woke up, I was on the other side of the screen, frozen in position, waiting for some one to approach and seek a quest. My only touch with the outer world is when a seeker beseeches me for a quest and then returns to receive his reward. Beyond that I stand in the darkness waiting…
Once again, I'm lonely. "I wonder where the voice went?"
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