“There isn’t any stipulation for such an occurrence,” says Angelo Marino. “I suspect that your father does not feel that it is possible that every single one of his children is a loser.”
It is ironic that our dad invoked Sea Farmers, a game that has possibly ruined more relationships than politics or meth. He was always a fan of those passive games where you build your little world “at” another player, competing against them indirectly but no less brutally. It is a good metaphor for business itself, but I can’t remember a time that we ever played Sea Farmers as a family that didn’t end in tears, where Gabriella or Bernard didn’t get pissed that the game itself “cheated.” Alistair or I usually won, as our corals thrived and fed the multitudes. Only Henley ever seemed to truly not care about winning or losing.
Angelo Marino reaches for the stack of briefcases by the door and hands them out one by one, checking the name engraved in the top before giving it to its new owner. We open our cases and see that inside each is a phone with our name on the back, and also a T-shirt with our father’s face on it that says “Nylo Family Scavenger Hunt 2020.”
“We’re supposed to wear these?” I say in disbelief.
“At least they’re each in our size,” says Gabriella, holding hers up against her torso.
“I’m not wearing a damn T-shirt, like this is some kind of charity fun-run,” says Bernard.
“I’m definitely wearing mine,” says Henley, stripping off his velvet jacket and pulling on the red shirt over his purple ribbon bowtie.
“Your father hired a game master to administer the game,” says Angelo Marino. “He will get in touch with you at noon every day to give you that day’s clue, and then you will be off to go find the box. All the game rules apply as long as you are hunting for the box, but once you find it, the rules are off for you until the next day. When you find the box, all you have to do is hold your game phone up to the box and it should click something inside that will register that you have found it.”
“This was some of the technology that he was having me develop,” Alistair notes.
“That’s not all,” continues Angelo Marino. “You get three lives, but you can trade in your lives for extra powers if you so desire. One option is to spend a life to buy transportation.”
“What do you mean by transportation?” asks Bernard.
“The usual kind: trains, planes, automobiles, etcetera. Otherwise, in the course of the game, you must walk or hitchhike everywhere. And if you hitchhike, you can’t pay for it. Nor might there be any future expectation of remuneration implied to anyone you convince to transport you.”
“How will you know whether we bribe anybody or not?” asks Bernard haughtily.
“Your phone will be recording everything you do or say,” says Angelo Marino. “It will also record everywhere you go. It is all in the rule book. You should each have one in your briefcase.”
I see that Alistair is already reading the rule book, a thin pamphlet printed on gold-embossed paper.
“I am definitely not walking anywhere,” says Henley. “I wish to spend a life on transportation, yes indeed I do. Who do I see to perform this dark magic? Is there some necrophagous clerk? Some devilish ombudsman or diabolical concierge?”
“Everyone just turn on your game phones,” Angelo Marino replies. “The first screen should guide you through the process of getting started.”
I drain my glass of bourbon and pour myself another one. I turn my phone on and am immediately greeted with a bright and cheery welcome screen. There is a short video of all of us together as children and then an eagle swoops down and rips the picture in half and eats it.
“Scavenger Hunt,” reads the title card. There is a flashing button that says “Play.” I press it and look around at my siblings as they do the same.
Now we move to a character-creation screen. My character is just me, wearing a glowing purple pantsuit. I am slightly offended by this corporate representation of who I am, but I guess we are all probably cartoons of ourselves in this game. At the top, the game shows that I have three lives left. There is a slot for my transportation and also a slot for something that says it is my “superpower.”
“What are the superpowers?” Bernard asks.
“Don’t worry about that yet,” says Angelo Marino. “Once you all click yes or no, the transportation will be randomly assigned and we can move on to the superpowers.”
I don’t want to walk everywhere. Not in this city, not in this sticky June weather. I click “yes” to transportation and then move to a loading screen, which shows me that four out of five of us have all made a decision.
“Who hasn’t decided yet?” says Henley. “Hurry up!”
Gabriella sighs dramatically. The loading screen suddenly says that all five people have made a decision, and then the app moves back to the character-selection screen. My character now says that I have the transportation “train pass.”
“Look,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed at how stupid all of this is. “Let’s agree to do this scavenger hunt but let’s also agree that whoever wins will just divide up the fortune equitably. We can have a good time playing, but let’s all agree that the victory won’t mean anything. I’m sure we can create a quick contract right here that will be legally binding. Angelo Marino? Will you draft something up like that?”
“There is no provision in the will that precludes me from drafting such a document,” says Angelo Marino. “Is that what you all want me to do?”
Nobody says anything.
“Do it,” I demand. My siblings nod in silent assent.
“I got a Lamborghini as my transportation,” says Henley with a wide grin. “Does that come with a driver?”
“I got a helicopter,” gloats Bernard.
“You better hope it comes with a
