He tapped his thumb and forefinger together.
GLITCH HUNTER—Beta Test
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“It’s not a cat,” he said, as he peeled off his headset and blinked his vision to the popcorn machine sitting just beyond the taped edge of the play-testing area.
“The software doesn’t have fox,” said Sergei behind him. “Would you rather it barked?”
Graham extracted himself from the CircleTread and turned to his partner’s workstation. “Just google it,” he said. “And use something close.” He and Sergei had been roommates their freshman year at UW, and they’d grown weary and bearded together in the decade since. Sergei was used to Graham’s brusqueness, just as Graham was used to Sergei’s froggish stares.
“I still think we should scrap the mission,” said Sergei. “We don’t need it for the release.”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Just because you’re obsessed with Clone Girl doesn’t make her a current event.”
They’d had this argument so many times it was practically a bit. Even so, Graham prickled. Fascination and obsession weren’t the same. “She’s better than current, she’s everlasting,” he said. He didn’t bring up how he hadn’t argued about Sergei designing a mission around the fictionalization of a talentless prima donna he loved to loathe. Sergei just needed reassurance and a moment to vent. Graham walked over and gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got to take a piss. Need anything?”
“A Coke,” said Sergei. “And a Hot Pocket.”
Graham cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, and Sergei’s tired grimace upended itself.
Graham pushed out into the hallway, tossing a wave toward the accountant across the hall, who always kept his door open. In the men’s room, he checked the stalls, then flicked off the lights and fanned the fingers of one hand over his eyebrows, pressing hard. He could feel a cluster headache coming on.
They were so close.
It was a gamble. Anything outside a franchise always is, but an indie game that wasn’t crowdsourced was practically unheard of these days. He and Sergei both had day jobs at Microsoft—though Graham thought it was unlikely either of them would survive the next round of layoffs—and they’d been pouring every spare cent and hour into this secret passion project for years. They’d spent over a hundred grand on outsourcing code alone. Silence was risky, but they had a plan. They were going to scream onto the scene.
Once they got this mission right.