mean? I heard the boys saying it to Josephine.”
“Literally? ‘Higher step’, as in steps on a ladder. Colloquially, it’s used with anyone who outranks you in the family.”
I nodded, and decided to venture into delicate territory. “Speaking of family, it sounds like you have a sister you don’t get along with. I can relate to that.”
Nadia made the fruitcake face again. “Natasha is my twin sister. Her goal in life is to be a celebrity, so she runs around with a pack of B-list movie star kids, chasing from party to party hoping the paparazzi develop an interest in them. She’s like a rainbow-colored shark with a bunch of glittering lampreys clamped on to her ass.”
With that image filling my head, I got called away to have the package-slider discussion with a customer. A group of ladies wanted their guy to, and I quote, “bring it like a ballet dancer”. Showing them the picture of Mitch’s wardrobe malfunction made it worse. I freely conceded their point that this was an institutional double standard, but pointed out that we were as constrained by it as anyone else.
I managed to turn the question around and asked the ladies what we should do, given the pros and cons of each option.
“You’re not giving us any viable options,” one exclaimed. “All you’re giving us are no-win scenarios. That’s not fair.”
I spread my hands. “That’s the point. There is no answer which will satisfy everybody. Sometimes you have to go with the proposal which equally offends the smallest number of people. Nobody likes to hear that answer, though, so I stick with my first answer—we give our players as many choices as we can responsibly allow them to have.”
The woman pulled a pen out of her pocket and spoke into the end of it. “This is Bev Orison, Game World Online, speaking with David Fraser of Curious Diversions. David, this interview will appear at a future date in my column, Bev’s Devs . Will you please give me your verbal consent as well as signing the release my friend Esther is holding?”
Oh, yay. The gaming industry’s answer to Alan Funt . I smiled, signed, and kept smiling as she wandered into the Spartan booth. Declining Bev’s “interviews” usually resulted in a humiliating hatchet job, and she was damn thorough about verifying her facts. My buddy Neil made that mistake, and Bev became his ex-wife’s new best friend. I’ll pass on the rectal probe, thanks.
Rose returned from TCAI’s booth with two other women, both in their mid-forties, one dark-haired, and the other blonde. As I expected, Danya was the dark-haired woman, and the blonde was her wife, Willow. The fact that Danya appeared twice as old as her mother would take some getting used to.
Rose said, “I wanted to let you know I’ll be doing the book reading for the next hour or so. One of the homeless kids Danya was working with ran into some gang trouble last night. Danya’s going to the hospital to pick her up.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster to send a cab?”
“Faster than a normal car,” Danya said. Her voice sounded far too young for her appearance and had a light Scottish burr to it. “Not faster than a Lamborghini with a DGI field.”
“DGI?”
“Don’t Get Involved.” Danya wrote out a quick note and handed it to Nadia. “Just to let Mother know I’m borrowing her car.”
“Fill it up before you bring it back,” Nadia replied.
Danya kissed Willow goodbye while giving Nadia the finger over her shoulder. She caressed Willow’s cheek before turning and charging into the crowd at a full run. The crowd didn’t seem to part or thin, but Danya cut through it as though running through smoke.
Willow watched her leave, a look of pain on her face. “Fifty years is too short for this crap. I’m going to get something to eat.” She looked at the exhibition hall exit, turned around, and went toward the small food court at the back of the hall.
Nadia shook her head as Willow walked off. “I feel for her,
“Literally? ‘Higher step’, as in steps on a ladder. Colloquially, it’s used with anyone who outranks you in the family.”
I nodded, and decided to venture into delicate territory. “Speaking of family, it sounds like you have a sister you don’t get along with. I can relate to that.”
Nadia made the fruitcake face again. “Natasha is my twin sister. Her goal in life is to be a celebrity, so she runs around with a pack of B-list movie star kids, chasing from party to party hoping the paparazzi develop an interest in them. She’s like a rainbow-colored shark with a bunch of glittering lampreys clamped on to her ass.”
With that image filling my head, I got called away to have the package-slider discussion with a customer. A group of ladies wanted their guy to, and I quote, “bring it like a ballet dancer”. Showing them the picture of Mitch’s wardrobe malfunction made it worse. I freely conceded their point that this was an institutional double standard, but pointed out that we were as constrained by it as anyone else.
I managed to turn the question around and asked the ladies what we should do, given the pros and cons of each option.
“You’re not giving us any viable options,” one exclaimed. “All you’re giving us are no-win scenarios. That’s not fair.”
I spread my hands. “That’s the point. There is no answer which will satisfy everybody. Sometimes you have to go with the proposal which equally offends the smallest number of people. Nobody likes to hear that answer, though, so I stick with my first answer—we give our players as many choices as we can responsibly allow them to have.”
The woman pulled a pen out of her pocket and spoke into the end of it. “This is Bev Orison, Game World Online, speaking with David Fraser of Curious Diversions. David, this interview will appear at a future date in my column, Bev’s Devs . Will you please give me your verbal consent as well as signing the release my friend Esther is holding?”
Oh, yay. The gaming industry’s answer to Alan Funt . I smiled, signed, and kept smiling as she wandered into the Spartan booth. Declining Bev’s “interviews” usually resulted in a humiliating hatchet job, and she was damn thorough about verifying her facts. My buddy Neil made that mistake, and Bev became his ex-wife’s new best friend. I’ll pass on the rectal probe, thanks.
Rose returned from TCAI’s booth with two other women, both in their mid-forties, one dark-haired, and the other blonde. As I expected, Danya was the dark-haired woman, and the blonde was her wife, Willow. The fact that Danya appeared twice as old as her mother would take some getting used to.
Rose said, “I wanted to let you know I’ll be doing the book reading for the next hour or so. One of the homeless kids Danya was working with ran into some gang trouble last night. Danya’s going to the hospital to pick her up.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster to send a cab?”
“Faster than a normal car,” Danya said. Her voice sounded far too young for her appearance and had a light Scottish burr to it. “Not faster than a Lamborghini with a DGI field.”
“DGI?”
“Don’t Get Involved.” Danya wrote out a quick note and handed it to Nadia. “Just to let Mother know I’m borrowing her car.”
“Fill it up before you bring it back,” Nadia replied.
Danya kissed Willow goodbye while giving Nadia the finger over her shoulder. She caressed Willow’s cheek before turning and charging into the crowd at a full run. The crowd didn’t seem to part or thin, but Danya cut through it as though running through smoke.
Willow watched her leave, a look of pain on her face. “Fifty years is too short for this crap. I’m going to get something to eat.” She looked at the exhibition hall exit, turned around, and went toward the small food court at the back of the hall.
Nadia shook her head as Willow walked off. “I feel for her,
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