The Architect & The Urchin Street Game
Chicago - Autumn 2008
Written by: Amby D.

**FORWARD**

I know it's been a long 9 months or so since this event has occurred. Some of the facts may be a little fuzzy by this point, but gawds damn this praxis must not fade away into the abyss! If for no other reason, I would like the mighty Dax Tran-Caffee and Zer0gee to know how appreciated their events are! It made me sad that I was at a log cabin playing D&D in a hot tub when the most recent Spring 2009 Journey to the End of the Night happened in Chicago. During this particular event from last Autumn, my companion Indy and I paired up to complete the game. Here is our tale from my view point...

**PROLOGUE**

There are groups of people loitering in the park by a fountain. Well, the term fountain is rather generous. It is a big cement pillar that water spills out of in erratic spurts and coughs. It is twilight and my heart has begun to speed up as my anticipation for the event builds. I will hunt and I will be hunted.

A few of my companions and I loiter about scanning the faces and movements of those around us, collecting as much information and data on them as we can. Soon they are going to be potential threats. We gather around a box of ribbons and select Purple, which I think is wise considering that the color seems to fade into the glowing gloom more readily than the bright Yellow and Orange ones. I start jumping up and down in place, getting my legs warmed up and my blood pumping as the horn blares loudly and the first team is released into the night.

Pacing. Pacing back and forth as the second blare of the horn goes off for the next team. Purples go last. We don't get a head start, in fact we start behind. It is going to be a fierce event and time is ticking away. I am partnered up with my buddy Indy. We scan our maps and select the best route we can find. Our precious name tags dangling from our wrists with bells tinkling softly. When the horn blares for a third time, the hairs on my skin stand straight up and a surge of electric energy shoots out of my body as we race to the corner of the park and onto the sidewalk.

**STAMP 1: “Urban Garden” [‘PLAY’ sign - fence of garden on north side of Chicago Ave, west of Hudson]**

We head into the night at a brisk walk, weaving through the streets and alleyways. Since we are close to my work office, I am familiar with this terrain due to my lunch break wanderings. Deliberately, we make our way to my closed office for a much needed beginning-of-race bathroom break. Once the Important Business is taken care of, the only way to our first location is a direct route along a major street. Despite seeing no one around, we look behind us, trying to find Oranges to hunt and Yellows to hide from.

Walking. Chatting about the new romances we each have. Walking. After a time I am lulled into comfort. There is no one else around. We appear to be the only ones heading to this location at this time. Hanging off a chain fence that borders a community garden I often pass with curiosity, is the first of our stamps. We each casually stamp our sheets and loiter for a moment contemplating the map.

The sound of pounding sneakers on pavement suddenly rings in my ears. My head jerks up. "DANGER DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!!" my internal robot screams at me. Mid-sentence, Indy and I fling ourselves in opposite directions, sprinting hard. An extended arm reaches out and a hand brushes lightly across the bag hanging from my back... such a close call! I dive between cars zooming along the street, cutting off the Yellow in hot pursuit of me. She cries out in frustration. From the corner of my eyes I see Indy duck down a side alley being pursued. Quickly I dive behind cars in a small parking lot and catch my breath; staring, watching, analyzing, until a security guard walks over to me suspiciously and shoos me away.

**STAMP 2: “Public Riverfront” [bike rack - riverfront at end of Oak St, past Kingsbury - down alleyway/stairs]**

Using our cellphones, Indy and I locate each other, meeting up at a non-descript corner. We both still have our bell-enhanced-nametags. The most direct route to our next location is a bit intimidating as we look down a long stretch of sidewalk bordered by a brick wall much taller than our heads. We will be obvious and left open to any Yellows, and will give much advance warning to any Oranges lurking about. Emboldened by our previous escape and the lack of people around, the decision is easy and we set off.

Without any signs of others about, we proceed past the walled street, past the dead ends, and onto the stairwell that leads down to a riverfront pathway. Before emerging onto the path in full-view, we stoop down and pause, listening closely. Our ears pick up the echoing sounds of a man having a casual one-way conversation. We can see the stamp in front of us dangling from the bike rack. Peering around the corner, I see a business man having a conversation on a cell phone. Considering that condos line the river all around us, it seems safe to proceed. Unmolested, we stamp our pages and decide to follow the river north a little towards the next stop on our map.

As we are about to pass the business man chatting on his phone, Indy stops abruptly and glares at him in sudden recognition. She laughs heartily and states the secret phrase, "Beneath the Pavement, the Beach". A huge grin splits his face and he pulls out additional name tags. Despite a very recent dramatic haircut, she had recognized him as someone she had just met the week before during Journey to the End of the Night in Minneapolis. We snagged one of the four hidden secret agents! Rejoice! Extra nametag prizes! As new voices begin echoing from the stairwell we had just descended, we hurry our steps away from him with a whispered goodbye and into shadow.



**STAMP 3: “Private Property Sign” [fence that separates street from park, at end of cul-de-sac off Evergreen and Burling]**

Approaching the next location, we hover at the main street at a bus stop, in order to look down the cul-de-sac and see who is there. Much to our horror, a large group of Yellows have just stamped their sheets and are heading in our direction. Numerous thoughts churn through my brain as I try to decide what to do. We could linger at the bus stop, pretending to not notice them as they walk a few feet from us, or we could try and take our small head start to flee from them. I decide to flee rather than attempt a "these are not the droids you are looking for" moment... my Jedi skillz are not powerful enough yet.

Seeing us run across the street in the opposite direction of course alerts the Yellows to Purple prey nearby. A few of them break off from their pack, hot on our tails. Indy and I split off again, her competitive Roller Derby life is fine training for her explosions of energy. I run around, finding dead end after dead end, my breath becomes labored as I curse my casual gym workouts. I should have been training for this! The Yellow behind me always getting ever closer. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness takes over me and in a last ditch effort, I sneak into an enclave in a building before he turns the corner. I slow my breathing and heart rate with a practiced mind and crouch in perfect stillness. I know this is a long shot. He begins to jog past where I am hidden with a perplexed look on his face. Then he turns and looks directly at me. I have been caught and am not very driven as prey. I toss my hands up in the air, congratulate him on his victory, and hand over my nametags.

As I wander back, I notice a small group of people standing around looking like they were up to something, but without ribbons. Convinced I had located another of the secret agents, I saunter up to them and state "Beneath the Pavement, the Beach!" There is uncomfortable silence. Ummm. (cough cough) I grin bashfully and slowly move away from them, mumbling something about thinking they were someone else. Much to my relief Indy walks up with her nametags still dangling from her wrist. The Yellows have all left and we proceed to the fence.

The fence is a huge metal barrier that prevents those in the cul-de-sac and those in the park from mingling. As we stamp our pages, a group of Oranges saunters up from the park. We can not reach them. They grin and make a demonstration of casually stamping their sheets. We back up and investigate the gate around the condos in the sac, trying to find a way to get at them. No such luck. Stepping back toward the street to work our way around to the next location, we spy another group of Oranges making their way towards the fence on our side. They have not seen us. Waiting. Tensed for a sprint.

Exploding from behind a condo, Indy and I charge the Orange herd. I quickly select my victim and relentlessly pursue him, jumping shrubs and curbs, sprinting along grassy plots. This is my natural state. I am predator, not prey. He will not escape me. After a short while, the Orange tosses his arms up in the air and admits defeat, allowing me to jog up and tag him. With our new fresh nametag prizes in tow, Indy and I decide this location has seen enough action, as a security guard starts getting very curious.

**STAMP 4: “Schiff Residences” [fence of garden across from south side of Schiff Bldg @ 1244 N Clyborn (between Goethe & Division)]**

Strolling down a semi-dirt road alongside Cabrini Green, Indy and I fat from our Orange feast, begin engaging again in our conversation of love and life. I feel confident and relaxed, with laughter easily rolling from my lips. Like a stroke of dejavu, the sound of fast moving sneakers on pavement come from behind us. I jump and risk a look behind me. It is some of our Purple compatriots (and sf0 FoeCakes teammates), Mr. O. and Meredithian! We welcome them with a hug and banter of victories and losses. Grouped up, we begin to acquire intel on our next location.

Slowly, we approach the side of a building were the stamp should be down a side alley. Meredithian decides to circle around to the other side of the side alley, in case we need to trap or run from those there. We can hear a group talking and they are sitting on their haunches, but we can't determine their ribbon color. Since there is a safe zone immediately around any stamp, we could potentially run in to safety if we move fast. Out of the corner of our eye, we see another group approaching from where we had just come. It is the same group of Oranges that had taunted us from the safety of the park at the last location. They have not seen us. Unspoken, we all drop to the ground, hidden by a hedge of bushes.

Waiting until they position themselves closer, I puff up as big as I can and jump up and startle them by loudly announcing how many feet they are from the stamp. "50 feet! 40 feet!" I stand blocking the way into the side alley as Indy and Mr. O. spread out like prowling lions. The Oranges cluster together, uncertain. Within the span of a heartbeat, Mr. O. goes from slow prowling to full-out sprint. I haven't seen a human move like that in a long time, if ever. His gate long but with a fury of power and speed not usually reserved for primates, he closes the distance before they can even register what is happening. They break into two groups. The faster moving ones Mr. O. hunts down, while the second group gets herded like cattle directly into Indy's waiting grasp. The Oranges are furious at us and unafraid to show their anger. We shrug at them, grin as we collect their nametags, get our stamps, and nod at the others just sitting in the alley in the safe zone while making our way back into the night.



**STAMP 5: “City Hiking” [fence of open lot at approx. 1435 N Sedgwick (east side of street between Schiller and Blackhawk)]**

Cutting through some side streets, the four of us work together, keeping alert to any other players. There seem to be none. A man is on the sidewalk close to me. He is looking at me with open curiosity and asks what it is we are doing. A few minutes prior, he had seen a group of people with Yellow ribbons on, also working their way through the streets. Excited that a non-game person was interested, rather than alarmed, about what we are up to, I take a moment to rattle off about the game we are playing, while my teammates scan the way ahead. I catch up to them, and unexpectedly we get to front of the empty lot, which serves as the stamp location, unhindered and alone. With different destinations next, our team of four breaks back into pairs and we bid our Purple friends adieu.

**STAMP 6: “Cool Water” [planter fence near fountain in Burton Place at Wells & Burton]**

As we progress to the next location, Indy and I find ourselves in an ever more "fancy" section of the city. Our sweaty faces, disheveled hair, dark clothing, and quick step a contrast to the tourists and "finely dressed" locals that are milling about. Restaurants and taverns line the streets, as valets park the cars of the wealthier citizenry. A few looks are thrown our way, but something in our manner and movement discourage anything more than passing curiosity. There is a time limit on this game and we are beginning to feel a sense of urgency.

From across the street I recognize a second secret agent immediately. She and I have spent several evenings as a part of tea parties on a run down trelis [reference "Team HQ!" praxis from Insatiability era]. She is with another woman, paddling and navigating in a cardboard gondola on the sidewalk. Entertained people clap and watch the performance antics of the secret agent and her companion. None the wiser that there are far more important reasons for the gondola navigators than their own idle amusement. We wait for a few tourists to get their photographs taken with our agent and quickly we issue the code "Beneath the Pavement, the Beach". I am hungry with anticipation of getting another nametag. She looks at me with regret and informs me that all the prizes have already been claimed. Distressed, I hurry to the stamp in the mini-concrete park-type place and Indy and I stamp our pages before any more players descend on the location.

**STAMP 7: “Bishop’s House” [on bicycle locked to ‘bikes prohibited’ sign - southeast corner of State & North]**

Along the route to our next spot, we cut through some alleyways. There are a couple groups that walk by the mouth of the alley. We can't tell if they are players, and if so what color they are. We wait. It is a perfect time for a small break. With the overhead alley light emitting the tell-tale buzz that I always associate with them, we ease ourselves onto the pavement hidden behind a couple garbage dumpsters and resume our ongoing conversation. After allowing a few minutes to go by, we stand to resume the game. My muscles are a bit sore, admittedly, but we are getting that much closer to the end.

Making our way to a relatively quiet street with mansions, we keep on the lookout. Sitting next to the bicycle are two people, but neither has an apparent ribbon. Emboldened, we make our way over and I recognize one of the two as the camera man from Journey to the End of the Night-Chicago in Spring 2008. We share a quick "greetings and salutations" as Indy and I stamp our pages. Time is running out. We need two more stamps before we can make our way to the finish line, and we have to get there before [11pm - double check time]. We begin walking up the sidewalk, when we notice a large group walking towards us in the distance. It is too far away to see if they are Yellows or Oranges. Deciding that we need to avoid anyone at this point, since we actually have nametags and are getting closer to the end goal, we very discretely... (ahem!)... ok, perhaps not that discretely... we jump the bushes that line the sidewalk and book it across the huge lawn of the structure on the corner (the Bishop's House?) and run to the other side.

Nonchalantly we attempt to stroll down this parallel street, when that group gets closer and one of them leaps over the same bushes we did, obviously hunting for us. We drop to the sidewalk onto our bellies, frozen, hidden by the bushes on this side. He scans and runs around, as we begin crawling on our hands and knees along the sidewalk and away from the situation. Two security guards emerge from the large house with radios blaring. Our predator suddenly becomes the prey of these new non-players, and he fades into the shadows and lurks away back to his group. Not wanting to be caught by the guards as we suspiciously crawl along the sidewalk, Indy and I pop back up and stroll away as though nothing is amiss. The guards look at us closely, but let us continue unhindered.

**STOP 8: “Basketball Court” [telephone poll in alley behind the CVS at State & Division]**

A block goes by and we let out a huge explosion of breath and laughter. Another close call. I am adjusting my bag and sorting myself. Feet pounding on pavement! DANGER! Like a startled gazelle, I leap forward away from the sound and risk a look back as the hands of the very same Yellow from the first stamp gropes at my back, missing me. Where did they come from?? She yells out in frustration as Indy and I sprint away from them yet again. They pursue.

I run and dodge into a building parking lot, hoping to evade them. I scurry through cars, using them as shields and wind my way towards the back. There is a ledge I jump onto and pull myself up and roll away from the edge. Crawling, I make my way deeper on to the surface and pull myself onto more ledges going up. Before I realize it, I am on a roof, sprawled out on my back, breathing heavy and staring at twinkling stars. There are not many stars in a Chicago night sky, but the ones I see are surrounded by a gorgeous clear black sky. A gentle breeze is blowing and I take a moment to appreciate the view, and perfect spying location for the sidewalk below. I pull out my phone and dial the subject of my romantic interests. Out of breath, soaking in the night air, I speak in quick hushed sounds. I am filled with a sense of being so very alive, everything crystal sharp and beautiful there on the roof.

I know our pursuers have left and I need to find Indy again. My phone is, of course, dying as I reluctantly end the call. A couple texts later and I am in a small park, eyeballing the old men sitting on the benches, ducking past a swingset until I find Indy. We both had escaped the Yellows yet again. We hurry to the alley that holds the next stamp. No one is there. We get to our business and dart out one end as others enter from the other. One more stamp to go. We both have nametags still. So close.

**STOP 9: “Take Something, Leave Something Box” [in the newspaper dispenser - northeast corner of Rush & Pearson]**

The last location has heavy pedestrian traffic. This makes me nervous. Players would be able to blend in with the people out on a weekend night and snag us if we are not careful. With no regard for how these non-players may think of our behavior, we talk in code and take turns looking behind us, ready to run if needed. We get to the newspaper box and take turn standing guard, making several non-players very nervous and alarmed, yet curious, with our behavior. In and out we are, and on to the finish line... we may not make it in time.



**FINISH LINE: “Heart of Gold”**

We have to get to the el train and we have to get there quick. We go past the park we started at and I quickly grab my bicycle. Since I am not allowed to ride it, I am acutely aware of the liability it is. There is no way I would be able to sprint away from pursuers with it in tow. We hurry to the station and are able to relax a bit, since the trains are safe zones. Kicking back on the benches feels like such sweet relief as we wait. The clock is ticking down. It will be so close. Several trains pass going the opposite direction. I am getting more and more impatient and begin to bounce around a bit while waiting. Finally a northbound brown line arrives and we get onto the rather full car.

There are Yellows on the traincar behind us. They don't see us. A couple stations go by and a group of Oranges saunters onto our traincar. The doors close as the automated train voice monotonously announces the next station. We all stare at each other on the crowded train with wide eyes. There are four of them. They have nametags. The other passengers can sense the tension in the air, but don't understand where it's coming from and they begin to shift uneasily. I leave my bike resting against Indy and take some steps towards them. "This is a safe zone. I can't get to you here." I state, attempting to smooth out the upcoming interaction. I raise my hands up, palms open, in a sign of peace. I propose a deal to them. We will not tag them and take their nametags once we get off, as long as they chase Yellows away from us. Time is of the essence at this point, and there are many blocks between the safety of the train and the safety of the block the finish line is on. They obviously do not fully trust us, but they tentatively agree to the deal. The Yellows from the other traincar get off at a stop before us. Excellent. We don't have to worry about them.

Getting off the train, I find a spot fast in order to tie up my bike, as I can't risk having it with me for this last home stretch. The Oranges are a bit nervous about us, but as we cross into the unsafe area and do not pursue them, they realize we are good to our word and the deal we made with them. A couple blocks are walked in anxiety. So close to the finish line. The little bells on the nametags around my wrist make more noise than I would have thought and I curse their obviousness. The Oranges walk slightly ahead of us as we approach a corner. I am lingering a bit in the back. A small commotion ahead makes me cautious. Turning the corner is the Yellow. THE Yellow. The one that had almost tagged me twice before and she is grinning at me in a most malicious way. I stare at my Orange meat shields... they are not doing anything. One of them shrugs, "Sorry, they don't have any nametags, they are not afraid of us." and they continue walking, happy to be rid of us, their Purple parasites.

There is a moment that I can really only equate to that of a movie. A slow motion moment that seems to last forever, as the Yellow's companion also turns the corner, and they both stare at us with wicked grins and slow-mo laughter with teeth sparkling. Are those fangs or a figment of my frenzied imagination? My heart skips a beat as I falter a step backwards from them. I can't believe it. Our nemesises!!! Then, like a movie, the slow motion immediately jumps into high gear as I turn to my left and book it into an alleyway with Indy pumping hard next to me. My will begins to harden like steel and my internal stubbornness cries out that I will not loose my nametags so close to the end! I scurry, sprint, dive, and leap over bushes and the trunks of parked cars alike. I keep running with fervor and passion and desperation, even though I no longer see them, because it is not just them I am now running from, but also the ticking of the clock. I have lost Indy. I hope she made it, but I can't think of her now. I must run.

Run. Run. Run. People on the street stare at me. I charge through traffic. Someone honks their horn. I keep running. I enter the safe zone on the block of the finish line. I don't slow down, in fact somehow I manage to speed up. The bells are making a racket on my wrist. I am searching for the street addresses. No. Not it. Closer. I am panting. My phone tells me I have less than two minutes. I find the building! WOOT! I fling open the doors... and glare at the staircase in front of me. Oh. My. Gawds. I charge up the stairs. Up up up. One flight. Two flights. Three flights. Four? I don't even know anymore. Up up up. I shove open the doors as the clock dings the completion of the race. I am the last person to be recorded for completing the race, as they pull away the sheets and officially mark the event as over. I did it. I made it. I stand there panting... shocked... and becoming ever more giddy by the second.

**EPILOGUE**

I make my way through the party and consume multiple tall glasses of water at the bar at this private party location. Indy arrives after the event was closed. She had managed to get away from her pursuer and still had all her tags, but hadn't gotten there in time. Mr. O. and Meredithian were already there, having completed the race in a different fashion by getting all 12 stamps done in the fastest time. We linger and share stories until I realize I can barely stay upright. With a huge smile on my face, I make my way back out into the night, collect my bike, and have a very leisurely ride home to a hot shower and a very sound sleep.




Thank you for reading (apologies for any misspellings and congrats for reading it this far, heh)!!