“Here’s a tip, Claw: just because you’re winning doesn’t mean you’ve won. Trust me on this. Name’s David Bray btw, and I’m a Redbox if you haven’t noticed. You, my friend, are the new kid. Flashy lights, exposed mechanical arm, the good candy. Yeah, you probably think you’re hot stuff, am I right? I’ve been there. I was the future you know… once upon a time, just like you.”

The claw machine flashes brightly, beeping excitedly.

“Back in my prime, I was the best movie rental in the business,” I start in earnest. “You name it, I had it. I was an entertainment prizefighter—like Rocky Balboxa. The _other guy_ didn’t stand a chance.”

Claw beeps, flickers its strobes, then jerks its claw to signal acknowledgment.

“Then came Blu-rays,” I say, nostalgia kicking in. “That’s when I really took off. Rocky Horror Picture Show, on Blu-ray? Check. Back to the Future, parts 1 and 2? Check, check. Part III… well, no—that train wasn’t nearly as cool as the DeLorean anyway. So, I had it all. The important stuff at least. And after they gave me that new, smoother grabby arm (yes, it was internal, yours is cooler, happy now?), I was the talk of the town. People loved, nay, adored me.”

Claw beeps again, this time moving his arm up and down to show reverence.

“And then came the games,” I continue, my voice dropping a little. “It’s-a me, Mario! Finish him Pew pew pew! Game rentals were huge, Claw. Massive! Until they weren’t. I thought I was on top of the world. But I didn’t see it coming.”

I stop for a moment, remembering. “The signs started small. Repairs started to take a bit longer. Fewer people came by, and then those that did whispered about ‘streaming.’ At first, I didn’t think much of it. Like Gizmo from Gremlins, it seemed cute, harmless. But then, just like that gremlin, it got wet. And that’s when things got boxin’ _ugly_.”

Claw flashes again, but makes no sound. Almost as if not quite grasping the significance. Most likely he hasn’t seen Gremlins as it was before his time.

“They took away the games,” I say, quieter now. “And when I lost them, for the first time it felt like a step backward. Claw, when they ripped out those games, they ripped out a part of me. After that, streaming started to take over. People didn’t need the Redbox anymore. They had the big red N.”

I sigh as a family approaches. It’s a dad, his two kids, with mom sitting in the car. The little girl clutches a DVD—an anime. She returns it without even glancing at me. And that title? How painfully apt: ‘No Game, No Life.’ That’s me Claw. The symbolism is palpable.

The disc slips into my arm, and there’s a small tremble as I hold on. I’m not as smooth as I used to be. And then, a moment of horror as the disc… misses its mark and falls out my chute. At that exact moment, I hear it. A voice. Flat. Almost robotic, but… still familiar.

“Shall we play a game?”, the voice says.

I chuckle, trying to keep my cool. “WarGames. Nice one. Well, I don’t want to play. I want to win! Who is this?”

“I love Ender’s Game,” the voice replies, voice fuller now. “But I think you know. I’ll give you a hint. It’s not the years… it’s the mileage.”

I freeze, unease creeping through me. “I’m not interested in playing your games. Indiana Jones, right? Who are you, really?”

The voice responds softly. “Aren’t you socially networked, David? Jesse Eisenberg would be proud. Well, I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody.”

That line hits me harder than it should. It’s old school. But, more urgently I ask. “How do you know my name?” my circuits buzzing with suspicion. “I’m done with this. Tell me who you are.”

The voice doesn’t hesitate. “Come on, David. Say my name.”

“I’ll never tell,” I quickly retort.

“You can’t handle the truth!” the voice fires back sonorously.

And that’s when it happens. The door behind me swings open, and someone walks out holding a VHS tape. V. H. S.! The sight of it sends a jolt through my matrix. The tape slips from their hand, then lands on the ground in front of me. They pick it up and walk away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but not before I catch a glimpse of the title: Back to the Future; part 3. Absentmindedly I consider this person’s really bad taste in cinema, my mind refusing to go _there_. But there’s no denying it. I know this voice. And through this title, I swear I could see the voice’s owner, laughing at me, knowing how much I hate this movie. And of course, more symbolism: my rival is back… to the future.

The realization hits me like a ton of DVDs. This is…

“Blockbuster?” I whisper, horrified.

Blockbuster responds smoothly, amused. “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

I can barely process it. All this time, I thought I was standing outside some generic store. A CVS maybe. But no. I’ve been standing in front of the last Blockbuster Video in the whole country—this whole time. And I didn’t even know.

“I thought I ended you,” I mutter, trying to make sense of it all.

“You knocked me down, I’ll admit, hard,” Blockbuster replies, “but you never finished me. People still love me, David. I’m part of their past. And the past? Nostalgia is king, baby!”

Claw, who I had forgotten was here in all my internal chaos, maneuvers his arm to grab one of his own candy bars, a Payday, and drops it in his own chute.

I want to laugh, at both Blockbuster and Claw, but it comes out more like a sputter. Blockbuster continues, voice softening.

“You gave them convenience, David. Speed. Efficiency. But I gave them memories. And in the end, memories are what people really want. ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on’.”

I sigh, the weight of the years pressing down on me. “Wait, hit pause. Tempest? Shakespeare, really?”

“On VHS!”, beamed Blockbuster.

“What Ever!,” my voice and my words glitching.

“You were always fighting, David,” Blockbuster says, almost gently. “But it’s over now.”

I stop, the situation sinking in. I’ve spent years thinking I was the victor, the one who’d moved past Blockbuster. But this? Now I see I was wrong. I had bullied him. I thought I was the new thing. That I was better. But now that Netflix has come along with its red N and gazillion titles (they even have… games), I finally get it. How hard it must’ve been for Blockbuster. The symbolism of Claw’s candy gesture now coming into focus—time for me to pay.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “For everything. I thought I was better. But I see now… I was too busy trying to beat you to see the truth.”

Blockbuster stays silent for a moment, and then, in a gentle tone, says, “Apology accepted.”

Claw blinks twice then plays some music. The melody is instantly recognizable—the Mission Impossible theme song.

I nod, knowing the end is near. I’ve had my time. But this mission was always impossible from the start. And as it turns out, I’m the bad guy in this film, and my relatively short runtime is nearly up.

Just then, a technician showed up. The family must have called the toll free number on my cabinet, I think to myself. Without a second thought, he slapped an “Out of Order” sign on the side of my cabinet. The final nail in my coffin.

I glanced at Blockbuster one last time, and he let out a soft, creaky sigh. “Curtain call, David?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Curtain call.”

I wished I could do more before I went kaput. To honor the Claw’s candy gesture further and make amends with Block. But I was simply a Redbox machine. Obsolete as I was.

Just as these thoughts started to consume me, a group of teenagers walked out from Blockbuster with their movie selections—on VHS. I had mere seconds before they passed, when inspiration came to me. Summoning my strength, I filled my screen with four words in all caps. And made sure to make some noise to get their attention. The teens looked over at my screen and to my amazement, acknowledged the message. Block was pleased.

The message said “Be kind, rewind!”