Conversation · Cornelius Gurdi and the Mountain Goats

A panel opens at the top of the playfield and a new ball charges downhill. It's larger than the goats and matte black. 'CORNELIUS' spell the white letters running across the equator.

So violent is it's descent it immediately knocks the last goat into the abyss, then proceeds to bounce all across the board as if carried by some demonic other-wordly inertia.

'HIGH SCORE,' announce the speakers and the whole machine lights up. Then the flippers retract, leaving a perfect opening for the Gurdi-ball to join the goats backstage. 'Cornelius' vanishes and the machine powers off.

"That's amazing," the lieutenant mumbles. He sounds a little out of breath.

"It's time to move on." [Leave.]

"Yes." The lieutenant gives 'CORNELIUS GURDI AND THE MOUNTAIN GOATS' one last look. "Good times."

Once again the machine becomes one with the dust and the darkness.

Life has left it, unlikely to ever return.

Did I... win?

You didn't just win, you absolute legend, you joined a very exclusive club of people who've ever achieved this monumental feat.

Too bad no one was around to witness your triumph. It was a 'high score' after all.

"Cuno, did you see that? I got the high score."

"Shit that's tense," mumbles the kid, eyes still on the lifeless machine. He quickly gathers himself and adds:

"Whatever. Cuno doesn't give a shit."

Pig's got mad timing. Fast-twitch fiber shit, interceptor shit. Animal instinct-style.

"I think I won, Kim."

"You didn't just win. No one I know has ever beaten Gurdi's Goats. That is a monumental achievement, detective."

"Who's the king of pinball, Kim." (Hold out your fist.)

"Congratulations, your highness," the lieutenant replies. His knuckles touch yours and he smiles. "That was really impressive."

"The machine needs a good service before anyone else can even attempt it again."

“Wait, but what about Smolka, Jandiroba, Stirneman, and Schmelling?”

“Those are professional tempo runners. They’re paid four figures per game. I meant normal human beings.”

"It's just a silly game, lieutenant."

"Of course." He nods. "I still think you earned the right to be at least a little proud."

How, if you can't even see it?

The last goat plummets into the fog with almost suicidal glee.

It killed himself to spite you.

"Kim, it can be done -- just watch!"

"I am. I've seen it before. Played it too. You will eventually make a mistake -- and then it's all over."

Only the tension in his posture betrays his interest.

"The fuck?"

The kid on your side looks bored. The game doesn't speak to him.

If he's off the speed-train there isn't much that 'speaks to him'. At least for few days.

And Gurdi?

Cornelius Gurdi was a Mesque mountaineer, travel-writer and a national hero, known for his daring expeditions into the far corners of the world and perhaps even more daring statements in the public arena. He never returned from his final conquest -- Corpus Mundi.

Despite the colorful images on the backglass, there's definitely something sinister about the guy.

A mountaineer? A Mesque nationalist? A goat herd? Play the damn game already.

"Pinball isn't for me." [Leave.]

Lean closer to read the text.

Above the painting of a moustached man climbing a hill, a column reads: 'Inspired by the legend of Cornelius Gurdi taking on the world's tallest peak, Corpus Mundi. The Mesque legends holds that when the nation is in danger, heroic Gurdi shall return and save his people.

Corpus Mundi, the dormant shield volcano on the Mundi isola is indeed the highest peak in the known world. At the height of 18.9 km it almost reaches stratosphere.

What's with all the goats?

Mesque culture holds a special place for the mountain goat, especially those on Corpus Mundi -- the only creature fearless and agile enough to climb the mountain. They are often associated with Gurdi.

Indeed. Think of them as balls.

The kid shrugs. He doesn't care.

"Kim, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" (Point to the machine.)

"The pinball machine?" The lieutenant glances at the machine. "Gurdi's Goats. A classic."

Oh it's more than just a classic -- a must-play. All serious pinballers have attempted a tempo-run.

The Greats like Gottwald's Knut Schmelling and Jörgen Stirneman, Mesque pinball legend Iara Flávia Jandiroba and Zsiemsk-born phenom, Ludek Smolka, have all managed a sub-twenty minute run.

"Check it out, Cuno." (Point to the machine.)

"Fuck does Cuno care," he asks, glancing at the machine. "Cuno doesn't fucking care."

Insert coin. (Continue.)