Page 42 of Glitched Play

Maci stares at me for a beat too long and I have to look away. Looking into someone’s eyes is painful for me. Eyes tell a story that sometimes you don’t want the world to know.

"Actually, I think once you have enough billions, you probably can."

It takes a hot minute, but suddenly a laugh escapes me.

A real one.

Unexpected.

Uncontrolled.

The sound surprises both of us.

Maci's eyes widen. Mine probably do too.

Sure, I’ve laughed many times. My brothers try their hardest to get on my nerves until they get me to smile or laugh.

But the noise that just left my body was free and unfiltered.

I honestly can't remember the last time I laughed during a workday. Or the last time someone outside my family was responsible for it.

And if Dara was here right now, I’m positive she would document the occasion in a company email.

nine

. . .

Maci

Encrypted Voicemail: Rune

A good game teaches you the rules. A great game makes you care about the people playing it.

By Wednesday afternoon, I hate Witt O'Ryan.

Not in a real way.

In a professional way. A very specific, incredibly annoying professional way. The kind reserved for brilliant people who hand you impossible problems and then disappear while you suffer.

Three days ago, he dropped a file on my desk and told me it was a retention issue.

Three days later, I’ve interviewed community managers, customer support representatives, league moderators, content creators, and two interns who accidentally got trapped in a conversation they clearly didn't deserve.

I have spreadsheets and reports and enough data to wallpaper my office.

What don’t I have?

An answer.

Which means somewhere in this building Witt is probably feeling smug.

The thought alone makes me want to throw a stapler.

Not at him. But it’s possible.

I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes. The problem isn't onboarding. It isn't gameplay. It isn't matchmaking. The players are signing up, creating teams, and playing games. Then they vanish.

Like someone flipped a switch.