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“We’ll be asking her. She’s out of the coma,” Eve lied and turned back. “The doctors said she’s going to make a full recovery, and she’ll be able to talk to us tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch. “Make that later today.”
“Thank God. Thank God for that. But you have to understand, she’s really pissed. She’s really wrecked and totally pissed at me about Bart. She blames me.”
“Imagine that. And imagine, Var, who we’re going to believe when she tells us you gave her that disc, told her to work on it.”
“I never did any such thing. You’ll never be able to prove that. My word against Cill’s, and she’s right out of brain surgery. Maybe I should get a lawyer. I bet a lawyer would tell you the same thing.”
“You want a lawyer? Fine. We’ll end the interview now while you make those arrangements. And while you are, the e-team will be dissecting your precious program, your logs and records, your unregistered, and destroying same.”
“Wait! Wait!” His restraints rattled again as he came halfway out of his chair. “You can’t do that. That’s my work. My property. You’ve got no right to do that.”
“Tell it to your lawyer.”
“Let’s just hold off. Let’s just wait.”
“Are you saying you don’t want legal representation at this time?”
“Yes. Let’s just talk this through.” He folded his hands again, but this time, Eve noted, his knuckles had whitened. “That work is valuable and complex. Your e-people aren’t going to get it. It’s years in the making. It’s mine.”
“Yours? Not U-Play’s? You have a contract, Var. Share and share alike. Any of you develops something, it goes in the kitty.”
“That doesn’t seem altogether fair,” Peabody added. “Not when you did this on your own. Something this brilliant.”
“I would’ve shared it, but Bart . . . Look, I discussed all this with Bart and he didn’t want any part of it. So it’s mine. Exclusively.”
“You told Bart about the work, the concept for the program?”
“He’s the marketing genius. We could’ve revolutionized the market.”
“But he was shortsighted.”
“Games are games, that was Bart’s line. He couldn’t see expanding
beyond that, couldn’t see the possibilities. He was all about the risks. So it’s mine. I did all the work, put in all the time—my own time.”
“And melded it with the concept and technology in Fantastical,” Eve finished. “Not yours exclusively.” She pointed a finger. “You cheated.”
“I did not!” Color rose, hot and bright, on his cheeks. “Look, he had a choice, and he made it. It’s all about choices, isn’t it? Every gamer decides what action to take, t
hen plays it out.”
“And Bart was a better gamer than you.”
“Bullshit.”
“He had a better focus, and looked at long-range strategy. You’re the detail man, and you tend to miss the big picture.”
“He’s the one who’s dead,” Var snapped back.
“Yeah, got me there. You set him up, and you took him out.”
“Facts.” Var punched a finger on the table. “Bart took the disc. Bart plugged it. Bart played the game. I wasn’t there. Nobody forced him to play. He had a bad game, a terrible accident, but I’m not responsible. I created the program, worked the tech, but that’s like saying the guy who built that weapon you’re carrying is responsible when you zap somebody.”
“He’s got a point.” Peabody nodded. “You’re just the brains behind it.”
“That’s right.”
“I guess you’re the smartest one of the four, too. None of them came up with anything close to what you did.”
