If Only

Nathan’s workstation was clean, as if it were prized above all his other possessions; the rest of the room was a disaster. Clothes, disks, and empty food wrappers lay everywhere in disarray, the shelves bent under the strain of the books heaped on them, and numerous bottles of pills covered the counter top. Under piles of clothes in another corner of the room stood a television and a radio, both blaring loudly, but tuned to nothing in particular; they were simply a source of white noise to fill the room. Yet oddly enough, there were no mirrors, as if the apartment hid a man who did not want to be seen in the light, even by himself. Of average height and build, with brown hair and wearing a T-shirt and jeans, he seemed in many ways the most unremarkable object in the entire space.
His computer, though, sported numerous remarkable enhancements, including digital and Web-based cameras, specialized software, a voice synthesizer box which was now silent, and a video transmitter. With a movement that looked like a fluid cross between a rock star and a talk show host, Nathan leaped in front of the computer, turned it on, and grabbed a laser pen from the desk. Pretending it was a microphone, he spoke into it, his hands gesticulating wildly and expressively, his voice resonating – a strong, captivating, well-modulated sound.

“And here we are, live once again, with our fabulous host Nathan Drake. Handsome, suave, debonair, men envy him; women love him. He’s every kid’s dream come true, and he’ll take you on an unforgettable journey into realms no one’s ever explored. Ladies and gentlemen, here with his Pentium dream machine, is Nathan Drake!”