“What is?” I ask. This is the first I’ve heard of a company not sending a real bill.
“Everquest,” she says. “But it’s the law. They have to, so they can jack up the price for everyone.”
“Oh, that game,” I say. She tried to explain it to me a few weeks ago. Basically, she pays fifteen bucks a month to play a role-playing game with a bunch of people she’s never met before. Instead of, you know, paying once for a game. She said that it made sense because of the costs of the server, or something, but if you ask me, it’s foolish. I don’t think it’ll ever catch on.
Come to think of it, I don’t think it is the law. She never mentioned a bill for it before.
We lock up and head out, walking the block and a half to the student parking lot. It’s not as hot as it looks outside because of a good breeze blowing through the city. Kyle talks about her games, mostly about the elf archer she plays in that online game, and I pay as much attention as I can while still thinking about the bell tone, which still reverberates through my head. When we get to the car, Kyle groans but puts the windows down. The A/C is, predictably, already at full blast, buffeting us with hot air and prompting Kyle to complain very loudly for a few moments as it cools down. By the time we get on the Parkway East, naturally, I wish I’d brought a jacket.