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I don't see Witt anywhere.

That's probably a good thing.

If everything is running this smoothly...

It means he never had to step in.

I smile to myself.

Somehow...

That feels like the biggest compliment of all.

twenty-eight

. . .

Witt

Encrypted Chat Glitch

Dad said something tonight at dinner. Sometimes focusing on one person helps you see the whole picture. Interesting.

It seems like it would be the opposite.

The SGI e-Football League pavilion is operating exactly as designed. Latency averages 8.4 milliseconds across every competition pod—low enough that every button press registers almost instantly, with no visible delay between player input and onscreen action.

Broadcast feeds remain synchronized. Audience engagement on the streaming platform has exceeded projections by fourteen percent since player introductions, and the production crew has adjusted to two minor schedule changes without creating a ripple anywhere else in the event.

I should be monitoring every aspect of this launch. Instead, I'm watching Maci.

She stands near the center aisle talking with one of the production assistants, clipboard tucked beneath one arm while she listens far more than she speaks. After a few seconds she nods, points toward one of the broadcast cameras, and the assistant jogs away smiling.

The problem is solved before it can become one.

She doesn’t give orders, she gives the employees confidence they can fix it themselves.

Interesting. I wasn't looking for that quality when I hired her.

Perhaps I should have been.

She disappears behind the stage for a moment before emerging again with two volunteers trailing behind her. One of them can't be older than sixteen and looks overwhelmed by the thousands of people moving through the pavilion. Maci slows her pace until he's walking beside her instead of behind her, saying something I can't hear over the roar of the crowd.

His shoulders relax. By the time they reach the player entrance, he's smiling.

She never touches him. Doesn’t appear to raise her voice. Not once does she act like she’s in charge. Yet, he follows her. Because he wants to.

My focus shifts toward the stage.

Five Austin Dillos players sit inside illuminated competition pods across from the Seattle Evergreens, each station enclosed in curved glass glowing in team colors. The massive, suspended scoreboard rotates statistics overhead while the sportscasters narrate every possession with enough enthusiasm to convince the audience they're watching the Super Bowl instead of digital football.

Children wearing oversized Dillos jerseys cheer every completed pass.

Parents cheer louder. This is what I imagined years ago.

Football without geography.

Competition without weather.