The following is a fiction course short story.
Tetris Syndrome
This past summer, Desmond's wrists ceased functioning. Yes, his complex of eight bones forming the proximal skeletal segment of his hand, in fact, both hands, were diagnosed with tendinitis. Desmond had abnormally pointy ulnas protruding from the base of each hand. As his body developed through puberty, with every rotation, his wrists would crack just about where the ulna protruded. But now at 20 years old, as he neared the end of his bodily development, he was concerned when the cracking returned. Especially since this cracking came with pain. Luckily, the pain began at the beginning of summer, or in other words the end of fighting game season. He had spent the last semester maining as Celica Ayatsuki Mercury in Blazblue. Maining as a beautiful young girl in a short skirt and a high auburn ponytail certainly tested the endurance of his wrists. He actually never truly tested the endurance of his wrists until this summer when his physical therapist prescribed the most unsettling exercise for his tendons. Using a purple, hard, rubber ball, Desmond had to apply pressure using his wrist against the table. With each roll, Desmond felt intense tingling throughout his arm. He could never decide if the sensation were eerily erotic or agonizing.
Once Desmond finished the last reps of his tendon exercise, he promptly grabbed a stuffed otter off his shelf and flopped onto his bed. He squeezed the brown, soft otter to his chest, using his arms, not his wrists. The otter's name was Ollie. Last spring break, Desmond's girlfriend Joanna gifted him the plushie after her internship at the Georgia Aquarium. Desmond and Joanna's schedules never seemed to collide, and the plushie, which was purchased 961 miles away, was the last gift Desmond had received from her. Joanna's fading scent on the otter only emphasized the distance between them. Desmond tucked Ollie into his elbow and grabbed his phone. His heart raced as he felt his phone vibrate, eager to see Joanna's profile picture appear on his screen. But the tremble was yet again a symptom of ghost vibration syndrome; a modern-day hallucination. Of course Joanna wouldn't call. She was far too busy with her new summer internship. Desmond and Ollie would have to wait, alone, in his off-campus apartment in Rochester, NY, 2,619 miles away from San Diego, California, and Joanna.
Desmond stared at his lock-screen: a background of him and Joanna at New York Comic Con when they were still in high school. Joanna was dressed as Princes Zelda, the wielder of the Triforce of Wisdom. Desmond was the green-clad, elf-boy, Link; the wielder of the Triforce of Courage. If Desmond had courage, he thought, he would fly to San Diego, right now, to take Joanna to San Diego Comic Con. If he were there, he'd pick her up, swing her around, and kiss her all over. Well, he'd pick her up if his wrists didn't crack. Desmond wished for the energy to balance Joanna's, and the momentum to keep up with her.
Back in high school, Desmond could barely keep up with Joanna as they marched down the track. He wondered how she could possibly keep her back straight, her steps in line, and hold her trombone toward the sky throughout the entire ten minute routine. He resented her fortitude and endurance. When she marched like a lion beside him, he had to work twice as hard so not to look like meerkat. Desmond had determined, when you watch someone for so long, it is hard not to fall in love. Joanna taught Desmond how to step in time. She invited him to the track each morning to stretch before band practice. Soon, stickers started to appear on Desmond's trombone case of video game characters he had only spoken to Joanna about. He never saw her place them, but he knew, and he began leaving her favorite snacks in her band locker. They became best friends, until they finally kissed in the Game Stop parking lot.
Now, alone in college, Desmond thought about how he reverted to his reclusive tendencies without Joanna. She was an otter; social, playful, and curious. Desmond, on the other hand, was a hermit crab. He was boney, 5'6", and hid in his shell. When Joanna had suggested he make some friends at his university, he dug deeper into his dorm. If he heard a knock, he'd turn off the lights. If his roommate returned, he'd put on his headset and hop on the computer. Thankfully, he moved off campus away from the people. He did, however, see a few people at the fighting game tournaments on campus, but Desmond would never introduce himself. He would compete, then vanish. That's why he thought he could be a hermit crab. He had the pincers in the tournament, never staying for too long, but Desmond did have friends. He'd just never see them in person. His friends were the same friends he had since elementary school. They played games online every week. Routine was comforting. Not seeing Joanna had become routine, and although he did love her, some sick part of him wanted to keep that routine. He'd never fly to San Diego, travel to her during spring break, or be the first one to call. Desmond would place his otter on his lap, and play another game.
The Tetris effect, also known as Tetris Syndrome, happens to people who hyper-focus on the tile-matching video game. People who have played the game for a prolonged period of time may experience involuntary responses to the real world, similarly to which they would respond in game. Desmond experienced the Tetris effect very frequently. He saw the cyan 'I' block in his ruler; the purple 'T' block in his charger; the green 'S' block in his scissors. He looked at the hanging pictures of Joanna above his desk and stacked them together in his mind.
The official Tetris website has a version of Tetris that reveals what percentile of players you are in. Desmond scored in the 99th percentile. Joanna scored severely low, and Desmond promised to never address her score in front of other people. While Desmond played alone for an hour, well past midnight, he noticed Joanna's profile picture on Discord had a fresh, green glowing dot. She was online. He sent her a message.
1:06 DesMan: hey there
1:06 JoanOfArc: Hi!
1:06 DesMan: want to play tetris ?
1:06 DesMan: i'm practicing for tournament against UB
1:07 JoanOfArc: I can play for a little bit. I just got back to my apartment.
1:07 DesMan: ok I'll make a room
1:08 DesMan: room code XYMGJ
Desmond sat criss-cross under his comforter. He leaned against a mountain of pillows and pulled his keyboard closer to his body, so not to overexert his wrists. As he waited for Joanna to join the multiplayer room, he closed his eyes and longed for her presence. He could feel her cheekbone press against his shoulder. Her stray hairs tickled his ear. She smelled like salt-water and hand sanitizer from working on the coast all day. Joanna received a grant to study at the Birch Aquarium at Scripps Institution of Oceanography in San Diego. She and her mentor, Dr. Anne Garcia, were developing a proposal for the City of San Francisco to use Pacific oysters to clean the bay water. Desmond hoped she would make her revolutionary find a bit faster and come home.
1:11 JoanOfArc: I can't get into the room.
1:11 DesMan: what
1:11 DesMan: why
1:12 JoanOfArc: I don't know. I just tried again and got a pixelated frowny face.
1:12 DesMan: I'll make another room
1:12 DesMan: CTMKZ
Desmond played by himself as he waited in the new multiplayer room. As he neared level 14, he hastily jabbed at the up arrow to spin the tiles. The pace of the game increased as fast as the days, weeks, months, hazily endured without Joanna. Desmond lost track of the tiles in the queue. He was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by yellow 'O' blocks and red 'Z' blocks; overwhelmed by holes in his near-perfect lines and stacking Z's and S's; overwhelmed by his aching wrists and sinking heart. Desmond was overwhelmed by the hole he had dug himself into; a never ending pit of solitude. As his tiles stacked, he looked up and up until finally he was no longer looking at his screen but the pictures of Joanna right above him.
1:16 JoanOfArc: I'm sorry Desmond, I need to repair my browser app somehow.
1:16 DesMan: oh
1:17 JoanofArc:I will have to do this tonight, I can't connect to anything.
1:17 DesMan: why
1:17 JoanOfArc: I have a webinar tomorrow at noon.
Desmond's fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking. He looked at Ollie, the little stuffed otter seated beside him. I want my real otter, he thought. He felt a vibration against his thigh, and pulled out his phone, but it was nothing. He had imagined a notification, yet again. He had imagined Joanna calling him, yet again. He would hide beneath his covers, yet again. But as he threw the covers over his head and the air swirled around his face, he caught a whiff of the sea-salt air that followed Joanna. He followed it.
On the back of the Rochester Public Transit seats, the little colored blocks moved across the fabric as Desmond rearranged them into perfect rectangles. His backpack bounced along the bus floor and Ollie's nose poked past the zipper. The bus halted to a stop. An orange 'L' block fell off the seat and rolled down the aisle in the herd of lost plastic water bottles, exerting the momentum of the stop. Desmond grabbed his backpack and followed the rolling 'L' down the front bus steps.
Desmond bought a ticket: American Airlines, Rochester International Airport to San Diego International Airport. He impatiently waited through the TSA checkpoint then sprinted to Gate 14. Each gate number morphed into pixels, and the pixels stacked into Tetris blocks. Just as the steward announced the last call for boarding, Desmond stumbled into the counter and handed over his ticket. He texted Joanna.
2:23 DesMan: I'm on my way. American Airlines Flight 060139.
Then he turned his phone to airplane mode and played Tetris on the seat tv. For six hours, he stacked the tiles and listened to Joanna's Spotify playlist, which he had downloaded the first time they were apart. Or was it the second time? The third? He could no longer remember.
The time flew by, the plane flew through the sky, and Desmond flew from the reserved boy who he used to be. When the plane finally landed, he walked into the terminal and felt a vibration against his thigh. Then another, and another. He pulled out his phone: 5 missed calls, 20 texts, 3 voicemails. It was Joanna, but he didn't need to read the text or listen to the voicemails, because she was waiting right in front of him.