“No, he claimed he built the game because it reminded him of the games we played together when we were young.”
“Farming and resource games are perennials.”
“They are. I’m sure Pioneers made out fine financially.” Sadie paused. “And, well, I’m not going to lie. After Marx’s death and everything that followed, I really did crave something exactly like the thing Sam had made. But I guess Sam watched to see if I would join. And once I joined, he created a series of identities to keep me playing.”
“What was the narrative?”
“Oh Lord. It was a ridiculous romance. I was Emily Marks, a pregnant woman with a dark past, and he was—wait for it—Dr. Edna Daedalus, the town’s optometrist.”
“Sounds incredibly hot.”
“It was more tender and sad.”
“Dr. Daedalus! Come on, Sadie. How could you not have known it was him?”
“Well, he was a she, for one.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“Maybe to throw me off his scent, I don’t know? Maybe a Walt Whitman, we-all-contain-multitudes kind of thing. Do you always play the same gender when you game?” She knew, from experience, that when given an option, Dov always played the girl character.
“But eventually, I did know it was him. Maybe I always knew, but I didn’t let myself know. He kept dropping, in retrospect, obvious clues. Edna loses a hand at one point.”
“Life in the Old West is tough.”
“Brutal,” Sadie said. “She didn’t know if she’d ever make lenses again.”
Dov laughed. “I fucking love games. So, what now?”
“We still aren’t speaking.”
“You aren’t speaking to him, you mean.”
“I suppose that is what I mean.”
“Sadie, for God’s sake, why?”
“Because he tricked me.” But, of course, there was more to it than that.
“Oh, to have the standards of Sadie Green.”
“Said the man who handcuffed me to his bed.”
“To my point, I did that, and you still have brunch with me whenever I’m in L.A.,” Dov said. “And you weren’t my student when I did that. I’m quite sure of that.”
“What are my standards, and what does that have to do with Sam and me not speaking?”
“Sadie, you’re how old?”
“Thirty-four.”
“You’re old enough to stop being so young. Only the young have such high standards. The middle-aged—”
“Like yourself,” Sadie said.
“Like myself,” Dov admitted. “I’m forty-three. I won’t deny it.” He beat his chest. “But I’m still sexy.”
“You’re okay.”
He made a muscle with his arm. “Feel this muscle, Sadie. Is this muscle okay?”
She laughed. “I’d rather not.” But then she did feel it.
“Impressive, right? I’m benching more than I did twenty years ago.”
“Congratulations, Dov.”
“I can wear the jeans I wore in high school.”
“Which is useful for dating high school girls.”
“I never dated a high school girl,” Dov said. “Except when I was in high school. College girls, yes. Love ’em. Can’t get enough of ’em.”
“How you never got fired is beyond me.”
“Because I’m a great teacher. Everyone adores me. You adored me. But to return to what I was saying, the middle-aged—”
“Those cursed souls worn down by the inevitable compromises of life, you mean?”
“Here is a thing to admit to yourself, if you’re able: there will never be a person who can mean as much to you as Sam. You may as well let go of the garbage—”
“It’s not just garbage, Dov.”
“You may as well let go of your perfectly legitimate grievances, then. Find the mysterious Dr. Daedalus, shake his hand—”
“Her hand.”
“Her hand and get back to the deadly serious business of making and playing games together.”
The waiter came, and he set their food on the table. “The manager says the tree’s been here for seventy years,” he said before he left.
“Ah, so we have our answer,” Dov said. “The restaurant was built for the tree. Thank you.” Dov added hot sauce to his shakshuka.
“How do you even know that needs hot sauce? You haven’t tasted it.”
“I know myself. I like it hot. What are you working on now anyway?”
“Nothing much,” Sadie said. “Taking my kid to nursery school. Trying to stay sane.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. You should be working.”
“Yeah, I’ll work eventually.” She changed the subject. “What brings you to L.A.?”
“A couple of meetings, as usual.” Dov said. “The director of some movie based on a Disney ride is interested in adapting Dead Sea for the cinema.” Dov set down his fork in order to make a jerking off motion with his hand. “It’ll never happen. Also, I’m getting divorced.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sadie said.
“Inevitable,” Dov said. “I’m fucking awful. I would never be in a relationship with me. The only good thing is that we didn’t add children into the mess this time.”
“What’ll you do now?”
“Go back to Israel. See my son. Telly’s sixteen now, if you can believe that. Work on a new game.” Dov took a moment to eat his shakshuka, and he proceeded to get yolk and red sauce on his beard. “Oh yes, that’s what I wanted to ask you. Since you’re between games at the moment, would you have any interest in teaching my class at MIT for a semester? I’m happy to throw your hat in the ring, if it’s something you’d at all want to do.”
“Let me think about it,” Sadie said.
“Up to you.”
“When I first signed up for your class, I wondered what made you want to teach.”
“Because teaching’s fucking great.”
“It is?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t love puppies? And every once in a very long while, a Sadie Green comes along to blow your fucking mind.” He tossed his head back and his chair teetered for a moment. “Boom.”
Sadie felt herself blush. She still took an embarrassing pleasure in his compliments. “You curse too much.”
At the end of brunch, Sadie drove Dov back to his hotel in the basin of the Hollywood hills. He kissed her on the cheek before he got out of the car. “I know I’m middle-aged,” Dov said. “And out of touch. And I have, apparently, no idea what women want. Twice divorced, etcetera. But I must tell you. To build a world for someone seems a romantic thing from where I stand.” Dov shook his head. “Sam Masur, that fucked-up, romantic kid.”
2
The Advanced Games seminar met once a week, Thursdays from one to four. Sadie did not vary the format from when she’d been a student in the seminar, sixteen years earlier. Each week, two of the eight seminarians would bring in a game, a mini game, or a part of a longer game—whatever could be feasibly programmed, given the time constraints. The students would play it, and then they’d critique it. They were responsible for making two games during the semester.