text: Down the steps to the subway, we are off to Jackson Heights, which is no mere hop, skip, and jump. But miraculously we manage to grab an express, which gets us there in decent time, race back up the steps, and unexpectedly run right into Ari pacing up and down, obviously agitated and nervous, waiting for us.
  
  "I can't go to his apartment alone." Ari launches right into it. "His family is super traditional. There's no way his mother is letting some girl go up to his room. And he's stopped answering me when I text."
  
  "I get that." Jimmy wraps Ari in a hug. "Do you know what happened?"
  
  "Not all of it. Vik was supposed to meet Marcus after lunch today to go over their robotics presentation. And he texted Marcus to say he'd left his notes back home, and was Marcus cool if they met at four instead. Marcus said fine. Vik went home. And then, I'm not sure, but I think when he was on the train, he logged onto Contagion, and I don't know, something about he's been hacked."
  
  Okay, quick aside. You need to know that when Vikram has any spare time, he plays the online game Contagion, and he's done it pretty much forever. Contagion is what is classified as an MMORPG, a massive multiplayer online role-playing game.
  
  Which, for the uninitiated, is a video game that takes place in what's called a persistent state world (PSW) where thousands or millions of players create their own character to participate in whatever the game they're playing demands. So in the case of Contagion, theoretically someone is collecting enough loot, maybe a stash of various antibiotics, safe harbors, or whatever, to escape the increasingly deadly outbreaks.
  
  If you're someone who's actually never played an MMORPG, the most addicting thing is that the virtual world is always changing. So whenever you log off, other events are continuously unfolding across Contagion that may affect you whenever you log on again.
  
  And as I said, Vikram's been at it forever. And I mean forever. Like, since the day it launched. And Vik's really good, like, he was ranking-number-seven-on-the-planet-or-something, good. Which means he's amassed a huge amount of really powerful stuff. And while dating Ari caused his ranking to slip a bit, our parental incarceration gave him plenty of time to rebuild his status.
  
  By now we are walking, and as Ari talks I am hearing her, but attempting to ogle Jackson Heights. I have been here a few times, but not much. It's actually in Queens, kind of at Seventy-Fourth Street between Roosevelt Avenue and Thirty-Seventh Avenue. And as we are walking, there's Bollywood and Bhangra playing everywhere, and spices, wow, tons of spices and aromas.
  
  Ari's fast pace is minimizing my view, but when we get caught waiting for traffic, I look to my left and see the best of it all. Right alongside us are tons and tons of shops showcasing colorful sari after sari, each one more striking than the next. Well, except for that turquoise-y peacock thing. That one's just bad.
  
  Something about the whole eye-catching display makes me think of pictures I've seen of the Festival of Chalk, this giant spring festival, celebrated during Holi, where everyone goes into the streets and splatters everyone with dye and chalk. It looks like the most awesome time ever.
  
  I never thought about it, but now I wonder if they celebrate it here? I mean, if they do, I could go this year. Of course that won't be quite the same, but it would be way cheaper and we could all go together. How amazing would that be?
  
  "Sid!"
  
  Imani's scream interrupts what is my apparent daydream. I dodge traffic, cross against the light, and catch back up to the group, which by now is already nearly a block ahead. We turn right, head another block over, and we are here.
  
  We let Jimmy buzz and take the lead.
  
  "Hi. Mrs. Patel. It's Jimmy, and Imani, and Sid, and Ari." Jimmy checks each of us off, but keeps his finger on the intercom. "Um, we were wondering if Vikram is here?"
  
  And with the buzz back, we are in.
  
  Third floor, to the left, down two more doors. I get the feeling we are being followed. A feeling reasonably confirmed as Mrs. Patel opens the door before we can even knock. Inside we find several of Vikram's "aunties" having tea.
  
  Jimmy pardons our interruption, we all give little nods and smiles before disappearing down the hall in the direction we are pointed.
  
  Of course, as I have never been here before, I am checking out every detail, so when we get down toward Vik's room, I smile. Right across the hall I spy a conveniently open door, which not only provides opportunity for me to peek in, it seemingly commands me to do so. I check out what is obviously his sisters' room. In fairness, let me acknowledge it's a pretty big room. Or at least it was. Until it had five beds and dressers crammed into it! Whoa.
  
  Before I begin fixating on how much I would hate that, Imani nudges me. Jimmy is turned back, giving Mrs. Patel a smile and a small wave of thanks as he is opening Vik's door, which allows me a direct view of what must be the perks of only "son-dom." Yes, it is a smaller room, but it's Vik's alone.
  
  So, of course, now I'm kind of knee-jerk annoyed. I mean, really? Couldn't they at least halve this or something? My feminist sensibilities are appalled. So are my encroachment challenges. Having less fun now.
  
  Ari, in the meantime, is having plenty of fun, and is busy, let's just say ...comforting ...Vik, who is still sitting in his desk chair.
  
  She is a very explicit comforter, you know.
  
  I take advantage of Vikram's sudden inability to move his head left or right, to check out his screen. Even from my position hovering near the door, I have an unimpeded view, confirming Ari's interpretation of events is sadly right ...and cringeworthy. So I do. Cringe. And wince. Vik's been wiped out.
  
  During which time Imani steps in to take control of the scene, which is good. Someone has to. "Okay Vik, tell us what happened."
  
  "I was coming home to grab some papers for tonight." Vikram wheels the chair around until it is more or less facing us. His voice is very low. I'm not sure if it's because he is so upset, or just so his mother won't hear us, but I sit down on the edge of his bed and lean in. Imani joins me there, as well. "I missed the express, so I thought I would just play a bit while I endured the freaking forever ride. I launch, check the leaderboard and there I am, still in the top ten, but my inventory is empty. Not one fucking thing. My entire inventory— gone. It's a complete wipeout. No weapons, no potions, no antidotes, no nothing."
  
  Wow. So regardless of his ranking, he's been effectively neutered, rendered a zero. It's like gamer death, but with no honor. Or maybe it's really a case of gamer murder. Who stole everything and left him here to die?
  
  And he stares at us all, monotonously answering our obvious and lame suggestions. Yes, he's not a frigging moron; yes, he tried rebooting. And yes, he's sent the makers a note. And yes and yes and yes.
  
  For a minute, when he first began, with his very low voice, I thought he was exhausted, maybe even on the verge of tears. But I was wrong. Vikram isn't crying. Vikram Patel is furious, and he is so furious, he can barely speak. And when he does, it's a swear-infested frenzy.
  
  I do realize everyone has bad moods and off days and all that kind of thing, especially teens, because as everyone knows adolescents are moody. It's written up in all the big studies. But none of us adolescents have ever seen Vikram angry. Not even Ari, who we all know has seen way more of Vikram than any of us even care to.
  
  I look at him, I look at the screen, and it's all wrong. Incredibly wrong. But not something that can be righted right now. Right now Vik has a robotics challenge to reveal, and we need to get him out of here and over to the school before his day gets even worse.