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“We’re working some angles. You seem to be understaffed today.”
“After we . . . made the announcement, we gave everybody the option of staying home today. We talked about closing up, out of respect, for a couple days. But . . . we decided we’d all handle it better if we had the work. It’s not helping much.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Maybe it’s worse, I don’t know. Everything around here’s Bart. It’s like I’ll be working on something, and I’ll think of something I want to ask him or tell him. Then I remember I can’t. We talked to his parents. God. God. That was hard. That was horrible. We’re going to have a memorial here tomorrow afternoon, because . . . This is where he liked to be best. Do you think that’s right? I mean, it’s not a church or a bereavement center, but—”
“I think it’s right.”
“Okay. Well, we thought so, so . . . Okay.”
“Are Cill and Benny in today?”
“Yeah. Do you need to talk to them? I can—”
“I’ll get to that. Since you’re here, why don’t we talk first? How about your office?”
“I . . . sure.” He looked flustered at the idea of going solo, but led the way upstairs to one of the glass-walled rooms.
“Don’t you ever want some privacy?” she asked him.
“Um.” He glanced around, as if surprised.
“Never mind.” She scanned his office. Cluttered workstation, multiple comps and systems, plenty of toys, a barstool in the shape of a tentacled alien. “I’m not altogether clear on who does what around here. The four of you were partners, but you must have each had specific functions, duties, responsibilities.”
“Well, we all worked on development. Depending on who came up with the concept, we each took different stages.”
He took a seat, turned off his headset. “Benny’s primarily research, Cill’s the organizer and I guess you’d say the mom when it comes to the staff. I target the marketing. But we all overlap. It’s loose. We like it loose.”
“And Bart?”
“Development, sure. He could always take a concept and make it better. I guess you could say he had a better head for the business of the business. Accounts and clients and the money details. The profit margins, development costs, that kind of thing. We all got into it, but he could keep a lot of it up here.” He tapped his forehead. “And he was sort of the public face of U-Play.”
“He got most of the media attention.”
“He liked to get out there, mix and mingle, talk it up.” He let out a sigh, rubbed a hand over his short hair. “Benny, he gets jittery with that kind of attention. Cill gets self-conscious and uncomfortable.”
“And you?”
“I like the quiet.” He smiled. “You know, the behind-the-scenes stuff, the figuring out, the in-house stuff. Most people who do what we do aren’t so good with outside. Bart was better at it. Do you want, like, a soda or something?”
“No, I’m good. Who’ll be the public face now?”
“I . . . I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I guess we haven’t really thought about it.” He lowered his head, stared at his knees. “We have to get through today, and tomorrow, and the next.”
“Maybe you’ll bring in another partner.”
“No.” He said it quickly, firmly as his head jerked up again. “No, it’s ours. We’ll figure it out.”
“And your plans to launch Fantastical?”
“We’ll stick to the schedule. It was Bart’s baby.”
“I need that disc copy, Var.”
“We’re going to have it hand-delivered to Captain Feeney at EDD. It’s nearly ready. Um. We have papers that need to be signed. Confidentiality and all that.”
“Okay. Bart worked on the program quite a bit then. Testing it, playing various scenarios and levels.”
“Sure. We all did. It’s part of it.” His pleasant face turned earnest. “If we don’t have fun with it, why would anybody else? You really can’t market what you don’t believe in. Or you can’t do it really well.”
“Good point. So, did he have a favorite fantasy game, a scenario he liked to repeat?”
