“So, what do you know about me?” she asked.
“You’re smart.”
“I’m Sam’s friend, so that is to be assumed. I could guess the same about you. What specifically do you know about me from playing my game?”
“That you’re a little bit wicked. And your mind is an interesting and unusual place.”
Sadie may have rolled her eyes, but it was hard to see them beneath those sunglasses. “Do you make games, too?”
“No, but I play them.”
“How will I ever know you, then?”
Memory, you realized long ago, is a game that a healthy-brained person can play all the time, and the game of memory is won or lost on one criterion: Do you leave the formation of memories to happenstance, or do you decide to remember?
So, where were you when this began?
* * *
—
You are in a meeting with Charlotte and Adam Worth.
They are blue-eyed innocents, brand-new to Los Angeles, strapping and healthy, like pioneers or folk singers. They remind you of Sam and Sadie, if Sam and Sadie were tall, married ex-Mormons from Utah.
The Worths are pitching their game, tentatively titled Our Infinite Days. （You used to joke that if you ever wrote a memoir, the title would be All Titles Are Tentative.） Our Infinite Days is an adventure shooter about the end of the world. A woman and her young daughter travel through a desert apocalypse, fending off people and a gauntlet of what the Worths were calling “desert vampires”—a cross between a vampire and a zombie. The woman has amnesia and the young daughter, who is only six years old, must act as her memory. The daughter believes her brothers and fathers are on the West Coast, but can you trust the memory of a six-year-old?
“Amnesia is a gaming chestnut,” Charlotte apologizes, “but we know we can make it work.”
“Actually, we were inspired by the original Ichigo,” Adam says. “The challenge of having to rely on a child’s memory and perceptions to win a game. It’s brilliant.”
“We can’t wait to meet Green/Mazer,” Charlotte says. “We’re huge fans.”
“She even loves Both Sides,” Adam says.
“Don’t say even. It’s my favorite game of all time,” Charlotte says. “Myre Landing is genius. I cosplayed Rose the Mighty.”
“No one knew who she was,” Adam says
“I’m somewhat obsessed with Sadie Green.”
“Not Mazer?” you ask, amused.
“They’re both great, but Sadie Green’s Myre Landing and Both Sides, Sadie Green’s Solution, and those are the kinds of thing I want to make,” Charlotte says. “I cannot wait to play Master of the Revels.”
“Solution,” you say. “That’s deep. You really are a fan.”
Maybe this is a fan service vaudeville, but you still appreciate it. It’s amazing how many people you meet—people who want things from you, after all—who can’t be bothered to research any of Unfair’s games.
You thank the Worths for coming in and you tell them that you will discuss Our Infinite Days with Sadie and Sam when they’re back from New York. You promise they’ll hear from you no later than the end of next week. You look at Charlotte and Adam, and you see how much they need you to make this game with them. You see how many times they must have been told no, the wanting in their eyes. You wonder what they’re doing for day jobs and how long their relationship will survive if it isn’t bolstered by some success. （They say success kills relationships, but the lack of it will do it just as quickly.） One of the absolute best parts of your own job is being able to tell an artist, Yes. I see you. I get what you’re doing. Let’s do this thing. Even though it’s a breach of professional protocol, you contemplate telling them your company is going to make Our Infinite Days right now. You like these people; you want to play this game; it’s a no-brainer.
You are about to walk them to the elevator bank when you hear what sounds like thunder, or a car driving over a metal plate, or a wrecking ball hitting the side of a building a block away.
It is loud, but not necessarily grave.
It is a bang, but Los Angeles is filled with sounds and furies signifying nothing. It’s famous for them.
You do not think it’s a gunshot.
You hear a muffled shout, but you cannot say whether it is coming from the lobby a floor below, or outside.
You smile at the Worths, and you laugh and, to put everyone at ease, you say, “The never-ending excitement of working in video games.”
The Worths laugh at your weak joke, and momentarily, everything is normal. “Should we leave our concept art so that your partners can look at it?” Charlotte asks.
You’re about to reply when your office phone rings. It is Unfair’s receptionist, Gordon. “Hi, Marx. There’s someone down here to see Mazer.”
You sense tension in Gordon’s voice. “Is something wrong?”
“I—I can’t talk,” Gordon says. “They say they need to talk to Mazer.”
“Okay, hold on.” You smile in the Worths’ direction. You lower your voice and whisper into the phone, “I’ll ask questions. You say yes or no. Should I call the police?”
“Yes,” Gordon says.
“Do they have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Is there more than one?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No.”
Through the earpiece, you can hear someone yell, “Get the fuck off the phone! Tell that faggot-lover to get down here.”
“Tell them Mazer isn’t here, but that the CEO of Unfair is coming down to see them, and that’s just as good.”
“Okay,” Gordon says, sounding dazed. He repeats what you’ve said.
“It’ll be okay, Gordon.” You hang up the phone.
You turn around, and the Worths are staring at you, awaiting instruction. “What can we do?” Adam Worth asks. Like their characters in Our Infinite Days, the Worths are prepared for imminent apocalypse.
You explain the situation and you ask him to call the police. Adam Worth picks up the phone.
As you’re leaving, Ant comes toward you. “What’s going on?”
You repeat what you know, and Ant offers to accompany you. “Sadie’ll kill me if I let you go down there alone.”
“There are things for you to do up here,” you say. You tell Ant to contact maintenance to get them to turn off the building’s power, so the elevator won’t work. You tell him to block off the stairwells. You tell him to keep everyone calm and make sure no one comes downstairs. You tell him to take the staff up to the roof and block the door.
“But Marx, for God’s sake, are you sure you have to go down there?”
“They just want to talk to someone. They probably have some grievance with the company. I’ve talked people off the ledge before.”
Ant says, “I don’t know. Maybe you should wait for the police. Sadie and Sam’ll both kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll be fine, Ant. And it isn’t right to leave Gordon down there alone. Whatever these peoples’ grievances are, they’re with Unfair, not our receptionist.”