“Let’s see what happens, here.”

The kid typed “Enter the barn.”

The cassette tape whirred into action and the microcomputer screen went blank for a few seconds while the speakers pinged and squealed.

“Let’s see what happens, here.”

The Doctor typed “Enter the barn.”

The cassette tape whirred into action and the microcomputer screen went blank for a few seconds while the speakers pinged and squealed.

“Let’s see what happens, here.”

Hans typed “Enter the barn.”

The cassette tape whirred into action and the microcomputer screen went blank for a few seconds while the speakers pinged and squealed.

“Let’s see what happens, here”

The Detective typed “Enter the barn.”

The cassette tape whirred into action and the microcomputer screen went blank for a few seconds while the speakers pinged and squealed.

Then the screen glittered with points of colored light all over the screen. It's broken the Detective thinks. The screen was blotchy with glowing color, like lichen or moss clinging to a tree trunk.

Then the screen glittered with points of colored light all over the screen. It's broken the Doctor thinks, disappointed. The screen was blotchy with glowing color, like lichen or moss clinging to a tree trunk.

Then the screen glittered with points of colored light all over the screen. It's broken the kid thinks, disappointed. The screen was blotchy with glowing color, like lichen or moss clinging to a tree trunk. Some 3-bit game this is.

A pattern began to emerge, as the screen painted a picture. The Doctor felt a rumbling and tumbling of emotion in his gut, in his chest, as he recognized the image being painted on the screen.

The kid watched the colored points spread, filling the screen. A roadside. It was snowing or raining.

The sun reached in through the hotel window and slashed the screen with the glare of its light. The Doctor tried to hold his arms over the screen and block the light, but he couldn’t see the final image. He walked to the window. Although the sun is streaming through the blinds, It’s been a harsh winter. Snow drifts and possibly black ice on the road.

He heard rain, a background noise getting louder. It was the shower.

He stepped out of the shower and dried off. He’s alone in the hotel room.

On the coffee table a graphic novel was lying next to the ash tray. The ash tray was clean and different. He opened the book and looked through it. The pictures moved in small ways. One panel was an open field. The grass and the trees swayed in the wind. A few people in the distance moved up a field, from the bottom of the panel to the top. When they reach the top.

These animated graphic novels, the Doctor thought, as he remembered playing games on cassettes with on of the first PCs and then CDs and online on laptops.

The two small figures walked up the still life path over and over again on the graphic novel’s liquid paper. A box floated over the screen with the caption, "Snacking on strawberries as they walked, the mother took her child over the hill, where a cache of spores waited hidden on the other side."

The Doctor needed to pick up Kate and their child, soon.

On the next panel, a face of joy, framed by a pair of arms shrouded in a hospital smock, reaching up. Gloved hands cupped the scowling baby, his arms and legs slowly kicking in the static picture where it was bound. He set the animated novel down and picked up his keys.

He had some time, though, for a drink before leaving the bar. He entered the bar.