“I got ‘the ability to open any lock,’” says Alistair.
“I got ‘impervious to bullets,’” says Gabriella, looking worried. “There won’t be bullets, will there?” She looks at me for reassurance and I shrug my shoulders.
Bernard leans back in his seat, smiling.
“No superpower for me, thanks,” he says.
“I passed too,” I pipe up.
“Dad always said we didn’t need superpowers,” says Bernard.
“Right,” I say, giving him a cold look.
“What does invisibility even mean?” asks Gabriella.
“I guess we’ll find out,” says Alistair.
We all shift around in our seats, pouring ourselves more drinks and looking over the rule book. There isn’t much that Angelo Marino hasn’t explained already.
“We are ahead of schedule,” says Angelo Marino. “But we can go ahead and get started if you like. I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have some extra time to complete today’s hunt, since you are all here together already.”
“Sure,” says Bernard.
“I have a meeting this afternoon,” I say. “So yeah, we might as well get started.”
Angelo Marino sends out a text and all of our phones light up, vibrating and ringing at the same time. The song the phones play is the Nylo Corporation theme, a bright, trilling chime that we have used for decades in commercials to create a unified sonic brand, ideally meant to brainwash generations of children into associating Nylo with the sound of “fun” and “adventure.”
I suppose that is what is about to happen to us now. Fun. And adventure.
This whole game feels a little silly. Thrown together. It doesn’t have the polished obsessive professionalism of one of Dad’s signature amusements. But he didn’t plan on dying, after all. I’m sure he was going to refine this game over the years. The augmented reality technology is new and untested. We are breaking ground as gamers. It is not surprising that one of Dad’s final acts would be to use us yet again as free play testers for one of his half-good ideas.
We all stare at our phones. After a few moments of fuzz, the screen clears, revealing a Chatroulette-style video feed. A person in a Guy Fawkes mask is leering at us in front of a green screen showing a cascade of falling cartoon gold coins.
“Fucking seriously?” I mutter.
“This is quite embarrassing,” says Henley.
“Hello, gamers!” The voice has been digitally altered to make it deep and sludgy, with vaguely electronic undertones. The person behind the mask could be a man; it could be a woman. I discover very quickly that I don’t really care who it is. I am already bored by this contest and want it to be over. I try to focus on the money, on winning, on power, on control.
“You are about to embark on an epic quest,” says the Game Master. “You will learn about yourselves and you will learn about each other. Has there ever been a game of skill and chance with higher stakes in the history of human events? Probably not, unless you consider war itself a game! Ha ha!”
“I hate this so much already,” says Gabriella.
“And now for your first clue, the location of your first box. Remember, the last person to find the box will lose a life and you only have until the end of the day. Are you ready? Here we go: ‘Your empire awaits atop cage 1.’ Good luck to you all! Bernard: on the roof of this building, you will find your helicopter gassed up and ready to go with a pilot hired from American Helicopters who knows nothing else and cannot help you. Henley: in the parking garage on level 1, there is a Lamborghini waiting for you. Alistair: on level 2, there is a motorbike. Caitlyn: your phone itself is now a transit pass good for any train or subway in the country. Gabriella: the day is very fine outside! I hope you enjoy walking.”
“I can’t even take the subway?” Gabriella asks, her brows raised in shock.
The Game Master in the Guy Fawkes mask disappears. Our phones all display the clue, hovering in pink over the image of cascading coins: “Your empire awaits atop cage 1.”
I look around to see if anyone else has figured it out yet. I already know exactly what the answer is and where we are supposed to go. Bernard seems to be lost in thought. Henley is rubbing his temples. Gabriella looks frustrated. She is furiously scrolling on her other phone. What is she looking up? A map of the city, perhaps? Alistair is biting his lower lip, making the same expression as when he is coding.
There is nothing in the rules that says I can’t just blurt out the answer and then we can all head out together. But I keep silent.
“Well?” says Angelo Marino. “Any questions?”
Nobody says anything.
“This is so stupid,” sighs Bernard.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” says Alistair. “Excuse me.”
We all watch him get up, cross the room, and leave. Bernard stands up and then sits back down.
“He’s not coming back,” says Henley. “I hope you all know that.”
Now Bernard bolts for the door. Gabriella and Henley look at each other. They both stand up at the same time.
“I have some work to do,” I lie. “I’ll be in my office if anybody needs me.”
11
I stuff the T-shirt and rule book in the briefcase and take the briefcase down to my office. I then take the elevator to the first floor and go out into the street. It is a nice afternoon in Dumbo and the breeze hits my face and dries the tears that have mysteriously started leaking out of my eyes. I wipe them away and almost hail a taxi before remembering the rules.
How long has it been since I’ve taken the subway in this town? Years, certainly. I know Olivia and Jane take the subway all the time. Their father is always trying to make them into peasants. But now I must venture underground myself, like a dirty pill bug.
I am briefly confused by how the game phone works as a subway
