9:14 AM , Department of Computer Science
Dear Diary,
Today is my second day on the job in my new work study position. Everyone seems nice and friendly, and this job is a snap! All I do is answer the occasional phone call and ask visitors to wait in the lobby. I can read my romance novels or even study if I feel like it! I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this dream job. It sure beats serving up pizza at Jester like last semester. I swear if I see another piece of cooked pork…but enough of that.
Let’s move on to more pleasant topics, dear diary. The men here are shy and geeky, needless to say. But that’s okay! I read a very important article last week, my sweet! “How To Get your MRS : Top Ten Professions for Your Future Husband” will surely be useful. I am not at all ashamed to say that I saw that nice Neil watching me “work” earlier. Could he be the one? Dinner parties and decorating here I come! This job isn’t too bad, but I could really get used to being a kept woman.
But what’s this? There is a Drag Rat in my pretty new office! Aren’t they banned from campus or something? What could he possibly be doing here? I’m calling security! I don’t like the way he’s walking towards my shiny new desk, clinking of safety pins and chains. And that Mohawk! Someone needs to remind Mr. Baggy Pants that the Eighties are over.
Wait here for now, diary. I think he’s going to talk to me. Ewwww!
Motor Joe shyly approached the brick and glass building. Accustomed to spending most of his time outdoors, he was a little intimidated by the aura of technology and overwhelming newness of the place. It was a far cry from the sticky doorways where he spent most of his days and nights. He slinked up the smooth granite steps and entered through the automatic glass door. “It would be necessary to come alone; but even that consideration did not deter him, for he could throw a little manliness into his mood, no doubt.” [1] From the moment he stepped inside, Joe felt suspicious glances directed his way. He was getting used to that, though.
The pretty girl at the front desk looked alarmed as she spotted him. She was scrawling something in a small book, and her writing became frantic as he approached. Joe steeled himself for her inevitable unfriendliness.
“Can I help you?” asked the girl, in a voice that meant just the opposite. He cleared his throat and hoped that she couldn’t smell the street upon him.
“Yes. I am here to join the
“May I see your student identification?” the girl asked, almost sneering.
“Sorry ma’am, I don’t have one. I don’t go to school here.” Joe stared at his feet a little. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Maybe it didn’t matter that he had the fastest reflexes and the best overall gaming skills in town. His status as non-student would prevent him from entering the elite club. It was as he suspected.
“I’m sorry, but the Institute’s
rules are very explicit. This is a
sponsored league, and the purses are meant to be scholarships for
She had succeeded in making the
truth sound as unfriendly as possible.
Joe couldn’t imagine what he had done to offend the young
receptionist. After all, he was just
trying to bring some glory to the
felt
worthy of their ranks. After all,
didn’t he have the highest Quake ranking in his gaming guild? Who could “frag”[3]
like he could? Joe quietly turned and
left, but he resolved to return. He
would simply have to try harder to get the team’s attention.
Joe slowly walked
back towards his usual haunts. He paused
where the two dogs were tethered and removed the crumpled bag of food from his
oversized pocket. He filled the makeshift
bowl he had found until there was no food left.
A pair of Folger’s cans would have to do for dishes until he could
afford real ones. The two mutts lapped
up their food and wagged their tails at him.
Alexis had the look of a Siberian Husky about her and was frequently
noticed by passersby. . Rufus the
Joe had gotten his share of prospective buyers for his pets. One person offered Joe a sum of money that would feed him for a month. The notion broke his heart, however. He wasn’t that desperate…not yet. Tonight, Joe had foregone his own dinner to feed the two dogs “Poor little dears! You shall have some dinner you shall!”[4]
They deserved it, anyhow. They had waited patiently for him in the shade through his university errand. He ignored the rumbling in his belly and achingly sat down to pet his two companions.
Joe had seen countless animals chained along the length of the Drag. Other indigents used their dogs as protection and also for capital. Some reasoned that the sight of a hungry animal would encourage the dropping of donations into their countless jars. They never fed those animals well or allowed them to look too healthy. After all, that would be bad for business. A plump animal with a shiny coat certainly couldn’t elicit donations. Joe would have never considered using Alexis or Eli for profit. Indeed, he only begged in times of absolute desperation. It was a last resort to him when other options failed. He generally earned what little money he had through day labor or odd jobs he saw listed on scraps of newsprint lying in the street.
The matter of tomorrow’s employment had yet to be resolved. Joe walked down to a day labor lot, scanning for any trucks cruising the area. He wasn’t particular about the kind of work he did; he was tall and strong and could handle most anything. He generally joined construction or painting crews and sometimes visited the local garages looking for temporary work. He was usually turned away, however, by mechanics with skill inferior to his own. “Every day, every hour, as he went in search of labour, he saw them going and coming also, rubbed shoulders with them, heard their voices, marked their movements.”[5]
An old girlfriend in high school had given him his nickname, chanting a little tune one afternoon:
Motor Joe, Motor Joe
If
it has a motor, he’ll make it go.
Callie had been right about that; Joe had an undeniable talent for fixing just about anything. He wondered for a moment what had happened to her. He hadn’t seen most of the friends of his youth since his stepmother had unceremoniously ejected him from his house seven years earlier.
It would have been different if Joe’s father had survived. His mother, suffering from alcoholism and postpartum depression, had left with the first trucker she’d met. She cared little about the destination; she just wanted to get as far away from her life as she could. Joe Senior cared for his young son as best as he was able between working two manufacturing jobs and many abortive attempts at studying engineering in night school. He knew many people were content living blue collar lives, but he wanted something more for his young son. “What I couldn’t accomplish in my own person perhaps I can carry out through him?“[6]
Joe Senior recognized the talent in his boy from the time that he was only a few years old. He frequently returned home from work to find that Junior had dismantled something or other, trying to figure out how it worked. At age 3, the boy was discovered removing the case of an old fashioned telephone. He inspected and pointed to the interior wiring, exclaiming “Inside!”
On that day two decades before, Joe Senior decided that Junior would be an educated man. He would not be forced to endure the uncertainty of the working class. Joe Senior read to his son frequently and encouraged him in all of his pursuits. He purchased books and a child-sized desk with his small disposable income. Although Joe was a serious and hard-working child, his father yearned for adult companionship.
Joe Senior met Maria one night at a local bar. He seemed lost in thought and the vivacious young bartender tossed a book of matches at him to get his attention.[7] As he gave his order, he couldn’t help but admire the graceful way she seemed to twirl around the room. A small precise dimple winked at him from each plump cheek.
They were married scarcely three months later. Maria was not interested in acting as mother to Junior and only valued him for his ability to do household chores. Joe Senior seemed blind to his wife’s disdain for the boy and tolerated her every whim. On the New Year’s Eve of Junior’s twelfth year, Joe Senior agreed to take his new wife on a spin around the countryside to see what fireworks they could. Gazing at her perfect dimples, he never saw the drunken teenager whose Suburban had crossed the center stripe. Maria walked away from the collision visibly shaken but virtually without a scratch. The driver’s side of the small car sustained the brunt of the damage, and Joe Senior never returned home to his son that night or any other.
Maria
did not have a maternal bone in her body (“tubes tied at twenty-seven, thank you
very much!”) and had even less interest in Joe after his father’s death. She frequently left him alone or pawned him
off on any available relative. One
summer, Maria decided to try her luck in
After she left, Joe felt the pain of culture shock. He had never had much, but his impoverished childhood had been a far cry from homelessness. He learned to travel light and paid short visits to his few remaining relatives. Nobody seemed to want him, however. He sensed that he was not particularly welcome at the homes of his aunts or uncles. Friends took him in for short periods of time, but their parents were unwilling to adopt another child. Joe was tall for his age and fairly strong. Joe helped out at the various houses for as long as he was welcome. He was a tough and resilient young man and learned to ignore the pain of rejection. Eventually, Joe realized that he was a vagrant.
Without transportation or a home, Joe stopped attending school. He had been doing well in his classes but now had a new set of pressures. Instead of worrying about that next test or quiz, he was fighting to find his next meal and a warm bed. It didn’t take him long to join the ranks of the Drag Rats. Although they were a loud and often bawdy bunch, they did take care of their own. The unusual piercings and tattoos disturbed him at first, but they soon became commonplace to him. He eased into life on the streets slowly, forgetting what it had been like to have a stable home. There were two arcades on the Drag where the owners sometimes gave him free games in exchange for repairing a malfunctioning machine. Joe spent some of his evenings holed up in internet cafes trying out the latest games. Most nights, there would be complaints among the more mainstream clientele until Joe was pointedly asked to leave. He always paid, but it seemed that his money wasn’t good enough.
Joe’s love of
entertainment technology encouraged his desire to join the UT gaming club. He may not have spent four years pursuing
collegiate engineering, but he felt that he was certainly the intellectual
equal of any member. The afternoon of
his visit to the University, Joe resolved that he would fulfill his father’s
dreams and attend college. He didn’t
have any idea where to begin, however.
Joe saw “
Three months
later, Joe found himself attending his first mathematics course at
8:57 AM ,
Department of Computer Science
Dear Diary,
The most amazing thing has happened! I am in love! I came to work as usual today and found a handsome young man sitting in the lobby. He was very polite and I helped him to sign up for the gaming league. He is very tall with dark hair and sparkling dark eyes. Do you think he could love me too? I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before but he said that he has just transferred from another college. I guess it’s just fate. He is going to found his own game design company. How great is that?
I’m sorry I keep doodling all over your pages, dear diary, but I just can’t keep it inside.
Missy and Joe forever![8]
