"yes!"

this was one of the few times his plans had proceeded as he had intended. 
his enemy had fallen prey to his trap of mines, and he was one step higher 
on the ladder to become the most successful trader in the galaxy.

true, it was just a computer game, but the people with whom he played at this 
time every morning were real enough. most were old enough to be his parents, 
and had far more experience with role-playing adventure games than he had 
with life.

he should be in bed now, resting for the coming day at school. but school 
wasn't very challenging or interesting, and though his grades were exemplary, 
his attitude marks reflected his desire for knowledge deeper than how to make 
a can opener or diagram a sentence. he would rather be doing this than 
anything: making memories alone that would be with him for a long time.

as he piloted his Corporate Flagship, "The U.S.S. Napalm," across uncharted 
sectors of space, he paused and listened to the tv. this early in the 
morning, the stations that were still on the air weren't offering their 
finest programming, but what MTV considered refuse, he considered his life 
blood. he lept to the couch to watch the video, and try to remember the band 
and the song better than last time, when he first heard the audio 
masterpiece. he could make out few lyrics:

"and i feel that time is wasted gold..."

when the caption came at the end of the video, he realized why he couldn't 
remember the obscure name of the band, nor the irrelevant name of the song. 
but he made a point of it anyway, remembering bands that he had written off 
as worthless without sampling the music later proved to have moments that 
challenged some of the greatest classical composers' symphonies. he would 
remember the one who introduced him to a new way of life the same way he 
introduced him to a new genre of music, but it would be long before he 
recognized him as his personal guardian angel of sorts.

he returned to the monitor screen, which provided the only light apart from 
the television and a small bulb by the stairs. his body suddenly quivered, 
as he realized he had been away from the computer long enough for the chair 
to cool down. he didn't mind that his body heat was being drained from his 
bare legs. the alien at the trading post was still waiting for his next 
offer, undoubtedly ignorant to the fact that this young man had done this for 
an hour every such morning for almost two weeks now, and his haggling skills 
were honed sharper than the pinpoint accuracy of his new transwarp drive.

he wiggled his naked toes for warmth, then drew back his legs in fear. the 
memory of last night was all too clear, when the air and dust that playfully 
teased his toes every night was replaced by a small beetle exploring the pale 
beasts in its domain. with a tissue he impaled the monster and left it for 
dead in the small plastic wastebasket. it wasn't until he had just turned on 
the Napalm's cloaking device for the night that he heard the scratching. his 
enemy was trying to survive the brutal attack, clawing helplessly at the 
paper in the wastebasket and making no progress, having been hindered by the 
tenacity with which its innards gripped the tissue. a feeling of mixed 
superiority, mercy, sadism, and disgust came over the boy as he watched this 
mindless creature fight against impossible odds.