The little cannon had lost the war. The last coin chinked its way to oblivion in the depths of the arcade and the space invaders kept on landing, unopposed.

The little cannon didn't think it was fair: he should be given the opportunity to fight the pixelated creatures on land, even if he had lost the game when the first one succeeded in landing. He knew he didn't have a chance, but he would have liked to die protecting his two dimensional home-planet.

“Hey! Come back!,” he shouted at the player. “INSERT COIN you moron. Quitter!”

But the player was twelve and didn't like to lose. Besides, the little cannon doubted that the player could hear him.

The screen changed and was substituted by INSERT COIN. Alone in the dark, the little cannon could hear the music of the simulacrum game designed to attract a new player. It seemed so far away, as if it came from another planet, another machine even. He scuttled off to a corner and readied his weapon. He still had a couple rounds in there. The green aliens disembarked and converged. They waved their horned green heads and scuttled about like over sized spiders. The little cannon could see the teeth inside those flat mouths, the teeth the players never saw.

He aimed. At least, he would go down swinging.