Page 50 of Single Player

“How are you doing, Silas?” Caleb came over to help him assemble the parts, checking the plans and building a portion of the device that Silas hadn’t yet begun. “If you don’t mind my asking. I know we don’t really know each other that well.”

“No, it’s okay.” Silas let the actions of his hands quiet his mind, which was agitated again thinking of Matthew. “I’m doing all right, I guess. Could be better. This time away from work has been good for me, though.” That was a hard thing for Silas to admit, even to himself, but it was true nonetheless. “I think it’s helpful. I . . .” He thought about what to say next, how to put it into words. “I generally like being alone, but I’ve gotten used to not being alone recently. The adjustment is . . . difficult.”

“Yup, I understand.” Caleb handed the completed portion of the box to Silas. “Let me know if you need anything else, though, okay? I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” Silas nodded. “I appreciate it.” He really did. He wasn’t saying that just to shut Caleb up, or because he was supposed to. Rather than wanting to avoid other people, he found himself not minding the idea of expanding his social circle a bit. Maybe change wasn’t as terrible as his mind had always made it out to be.

The day before DiceCon was always a mad rush from morning until well after closing, so Matthew was prepared for the onslaught of tasks and responsibilities when he arrived at PI Games on Wednesday. He had a to-do list of his own, plus the tasks that would undoubtedly fall to him as de facto team leader, and he would have to put aside his own exhaustion to get everything done. He had stayed up way too late gaming these past few nights, and then struggled to sleep, only ending up with a couple of hours of shut-eye each night since . . . well, since Saturday. His last good night of sleep had been with Silas in his bed.

Silas. The thought of the man who had all but stomped all over Matthew’s heart filled him with the same mixed emotions he’d been battling this whole time, anger and guilt and sadness, this emotional upswell that had become so regular he wasn’t even surprised.

He exhaled and tried to shake those thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do today, inadequate as Silas thought that job was.

That, also, was the next problem. Will wanted his application for the technical manager position before Matthew left for DiceCon, or he was going to start advertising the job. He’d been hemming and hawing about it since Silas left. After his disappointing shift at Gigi’s, he’d spent the rest of the weekend facing some big decisions about his future, and facing big decisions was one of his least favorite activities. In avoiding that decision, he’d ended up marathon coding Endgame, getting fully immersed in the complex game and completing far more than his assigned portion of the work, which seemed to indicate that he should go ahead and take the damn position already.

Whatever his decision would be, he needed to make it today.

One of his first stops was Iris Parker, the HR manager. She was in her office as usual, one of the first to arrive each morning, blond hair impeccably coiffed and red nails tapping across the computer keys. She smiled when Matthew entered. He’d gotten to know Iris a bit last year when she started freelancing as a designer for Endgame and became a more regular part of their team meetings.

“Hi, Iris.” He dropped down into the chair in front of her desk. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain.” She smiled at him as she moved away from her computer and instead pulled out a file drawer in her desk. “I assume you’re here for the Endgame prints, right?”

He pointed at her in a “bull’s-eye” gesture. “You’ve got it.”

She lifted a box out of the drawer and set it in front of herself on the desk, removing the lid to reveal a stack of colored prints. “They’re here. Take a look, tell me what you think. I printed up twenty copies of each of the five main designs.” She handed him the top five sheets from the stack, which were the five greater guardians the player’s avatar met in the game, the “boss monsters,” except that this game wasn’t a game of monsters. Matthew loved Endgame for its unique premise, a psychological exploration of the afterlife that revealed aspects of the player based on choices he or she made throughout the game. The five greater guardians were keys to those choices, each one offering a different psychological conundrum and shaping the game as a result. Iris had done the original concept art for the game, from the settings to the main player avatars to the greater and lesser guardians, and her work was incredible. It had been Caleb’s idea to have her work sold as prints at DiceCon to accompany the game promotion, and Will had been enthusiastic about the entire process.

Each greater guardian had a different concept, but they shared the same Gothic-design look that permeated the entire game. He looked at the five glossy prints, then the stack of copies in the box, and nodded his approval. “These are fantastic, Iris. Will’s going to love them.”

Iris smiled shyly. He only saw her get shy when she was discussing her art, which he hadn’t even known existed until last year when she’d started the freelancing gig. She was normally the consummate professional, put together and organized and so good at her job that she handled the endless paperwork that was a requisite of working in HR without anything ruffling her, but the artist side of her revealed a whole different aspect of her personality. Matthew had enjoyed seeing this Iris, the one who shared his love of craft, even if their crafts of choice were different.

“Thanks. I had a great time making them.” She handed over the rest of the box.

“You signed them all, right?” He scanned the first few in the pile, noticing Iris’s signature scrawled across the bottom of the prints.

She gave him a pained look. “I did it because Will said to, but I felt really silly doing it. Nobody cares about my signature. It’s not like I’m famous.”

“An artist’s official seal is a big thing, Iris.” He gave her a patient look. “That’s why programmers put Easter eggs in game code.”

Iris shrugged. “If you insist.”

“You know I think it’s amazing that you do these, right?” Matthew lifted the box. “I’m so glad you got into freelancing. You’re really good at it.”

Iris shrugged again, but smiled all the while. “I’m glad, too. I started taking classes through the art program at USF, and it’s been gratifying to study something I love without the pressure of having to build my whole career around it. I get to do a little of all the things I love. If I hadn’t taken the freelancing job, I never would have known what I was capable of.”

Matthew nodded, a few pieces of something clicking into place in his brain. “Were you nervous, taking that next step?”

Iris laughed. “Oh my god, yeah. I was completely freaked out. I love HR, don’t get me wrong. Filing, paperwork, organization—it’s totally in my wheelhouse.” She examined her nails, momentarily sheepish. “There was a time last year when I’d never have admitted that. But even though I wanted something more, something to feed my creative side, I was terrified that I was going to suck at it. The art freelancing and classes have shown me that I can do this, though. Between HR, art, and Owen, I feel like I’ve got everything I want right now.” She smiled again. “I guess I’m lucky.”

“No, not luck,” Matthew said thoughtfully. It wasn’t exactly luck, but craft, choosing the elements of life that would fulfill all her needs. “You designed this.”

“I suppose so.” Now Iris was looking at him thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?”

Matthew considered what he could tell her without oversharing or burdening her with his issues, issues that felt numerous right now. “I’m trying to decide if I should apply for the technical manager position.”

Iris’s eyebrows drew together. “I thought for sure you’d apply. You’re considering not doing it? Why not?”

Matthew looked off to the side, staring at her office without really seeing it. “I haven’t been a really serious guy. I work, but I don’t do things that are particularly challenging. I’ve been coasting pretty happily for a few years now, programming here, picking up bartending shifts at the club, partying, and goofing off. If I take this position, those days are probably over for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to give it up. And yet if I keep on going like I am, I feel guilty.”