Land Of The Blind

The Spokane House lounge was paneled and dark (my primary reason for choosing it) and overlooked the city, which loomed below in the tree-filled valley like an overgrown garden. 'Pretty town,' Charley said. 'What's the real estate picture like?'

'Very affordable,' I said, finding myself speaking in Charley's quick staccato. 'Cheap. Practically free. Good place for development.'

'Excellent,' he said. 'Very good.'

I stood at the back of the room with Michael and Dana and Charley. Eli stood at the front, as if he were about to teach a class. The four real players and the four actors sat in front of him, facing him, their backs to us. Dana and Eli acknowledged each other with a small nod. Dana smiled. Eli did not. When I'd told her over the phone that Eli Boyle was my partner in this game, Dana had seemed pleased – not so much for the game as for me, as if it were a good sign for me, for my soul or something. Eli had reacted to her presence in this whole thing with nothing but a grunt.

At the front of the room he paced nervously in corduroy pants and an old sweater that strained to cover his growing gut. He'd combed his hair, putting some lines in the greasy top, but the back and sides winged out like exploding waves. I watched Charley stare at Eli, measuring the creator of what we were about to see.

'I like that guy,' he whispered. 'That's what Newsweek said they look like.'

'What who looks like?' I asked.

'Computer people,' he said. 'You know, entrepreneurs, geniuses, nerds, that kind of thing. They don't have time to shower. Too creative. You know, like him.' He nodded his head at Eli again.

The four real players turned on the computers, as we'd practiced earlier. Their screens buzzed to life and they began typing letters and entering numbers as I explained the game to Michael and Dana and Charley. I told them about lords and serfs, about treaties and wars, about double- and triple-crosses. The old Empire map came up on the screens. When Charley or Michael asked questions I didn't know the answers to, I made them up.

'How do you win?' Charley asked.

'You defeat other players' armies, vanquish them, take over their land.'

'Good, good,' he said. 'Is there violence? The Wall Street Journal said that kids like to see blood. Is there blood?'

Eli and I made eye contact and he looked out the door and into the hallway, to where Bryan the coder was sitting. Then Eli turned back and nodded at me. 'Come on,' I said. 'Let's pick one player and I'll show you how Empire works.'

We had set Louis up at the far end of the room. I pretended to pick him at random, and put my hand on his shoulder. From there we couldn't see any other computer screens, just his.

'After a few minutes of routine decision making by the player,' I began, 'land swaps and weddings and treaties and the like, updating the map, that sort of thing, the player proceeds to what we call 'the shadow world' and begins living the results of the decisions he's made, where he'll get to make new decisions based on the actions and reactions of the other players.'

'The shadow world,' Charley repeated significantly.

'Louis,' I said. 'What's going on with you?'

'Oh,' he said, 'Dave and I are allies, but I want his access to the ports, and so when we get out to sea I'm going to turn on him and attack him, try to defeat his navy and get him to give up his port town.' One of the fake players, Dave, gave a friendly wave from across the room. Louis typed some letters and hit return on his keyboard.

I watched Charley's face drop in wonder as the computer screen leapt to life, and two animated ships were sailing next to each other on a meticulously drawn sea. The computer focused on the deck of one of the ships, and there was a dashing, dark-haired, strangely futuristic-looking man – Asian in appearance – at the wheel of one of the ships. Louis kept working the keyboard until the ship swung sideways, came abreast of the other ship, and fired its cannon. There was no sound.

I nodded at Eli, who nodded at the phony player Dave. 'Hey!' Dave yelled. 'What are you doing, Louis? I'll get you!'

Michael and Charley didn't seem to notice Dave's delivery, which struck me as over-the-top. They watched intently as the two ships engaged in a rousing sea battle, firing cannons and – anachronistically – lasers at one another, the angles and views shifting back and forth as Louis pounded the keyboard and leaned back and forth as if learning to ride a bike.

'The player controls the camera angles, everything,' I whispered. 'We're having some trouble with the sound.'

Michael edged closer, an odd look on his face, as if he were trying to connect Louis's frantic typing with the carnage he was seeing on the screen. Blasts hit Dave's ship and sailors were blown off left and right, until corpses littered the water. That's when another ship appeared.

'Damn it!' Louis said right on cue. 'He's made a deal with another player. Samantha!'

'Ha!' yelled Samantha. 'I got you, Louis!'

On the screen, a beautiful, Asian-looking woman commanded a roundish, pink ship that looked a little bit like an animated panty shield and fired lasers and cannons across the bow of Louis's ship.

'Jesus Christ,' Charley said.

Michael's mouth was wide open; he stepped even closer to get a better look.

That's when all the computer screens flashed, hummed with static, and went black.

'Ah, shoot,' I said. 'We did it again. We blew up the network.'

'Damn it, Clark!' yelled Eli from the front of the room, on cue. 'I told you it was too soon. I need more time.'

'This is why he hasn't wanted to get any investors,' I whispered. 'He's such a perfectionist. He takes it personally. He's been working on this game for years.'

'It shows,' said Charley.

Eli stomped to the back of the room and turned off the computers. 'We're not ready, Clark. I need six more months.' And he stormed out of the room.

I apologized and we sat in the room for a few more minutes, talking to some of the real players about how much they loved Empire. 'We'll get these bugs worked out,' I said. 'I'm sorry you didn't get to see the other realms, the land and the mountains, and all of it.' That night I had dinner with Michael, Dana, and Charley and we talked generally and specifically about the game and its potential. Afterward, I drove them back to their hotel. In the hotel lobby Dana hugged me again, and Charley pumped my hand as if my arm might bring oil. Michael patted me on the shoulder. 'Nicely done,' he said flatly; then he took Dana by the hand and dragged her toward the elevator.

There was a message waiting for me in my hotel room. Dana, I thought, and my nerve ends felt alight. I hit play. It was from my mentor and best friend, Richard Stanton.

'Clark? It's Dick Stanton. Look, I don't know how else to tell you this, but Max died this morning. He took some pills. The pain-' Dr. Stanton sighed. 'They found him in his office. I just thought you'd want to know. You meant a lot to him.'

I tried to call Dr. Stanton, but there was no answer. I could imagine the bar stool where he was sitting. I left the hotel and stood outside, tried to measure the depth in the night sky. I'd been home for ten days and hadn't been out to see my parents. It had been about four months since I'd seen them. They didn't even know I was in town. I started my rental car and drove east on the freeway, through industrial areas and down Trent to my old neighborhood. My parents still lived in the house on Empire Road and I parked across the street, watching Mom and Dad through the front picture window. She brought him a beer. They watched TV together. I hadn't seen much of my parents in the last few years, in part because I believed that they blamed me somehow for Ben dying. I might've convinced them they were being irrational if I didn't believe it so strongly myself.

After a few minutes of watching them watch TV, I drove downtown and went back to my hotel room. I didn't sleep. The next morning, I drove Michael, Dana, and Charley to the airport. Charley said he was going to think about it, talk to his partners, and then we'd have a conference call in a week. 'Very impressive,' he said. 'Top- notch.'

Every time he said something like that, Dana smiled at me.

At the airport bar Charley bought us all a drink, and then excused himself to go to the bathroom. He and