You are Dr David Brinner.
You are an English professor at a medium-sized college in Washington State somewhere. Your students think that you are, uh, eccentric, what with your old-timey clothes...
Seriously, dude, what is with that fedora and three-piece suit? It′s too warm for that—wouldn′t you like to wear a nice polo and khakis, so you don′t overheat? ...No?
Uh, anyway, your students think you′re kind of a weirdo, and maybe you are, but they don′t hate you. Despite your outlandish wardrobe and bizarre fixation on hats (how many other professors have a hat rack in their classroom, let alone two of them?), you are a good teacher. You grade fairly. You established a good tutoring program. Your lessons are clear, plain, and simple, and whenever you sense that a student does not understand, you take time out of your busy day to make sure they do. In this quest, you are assisted by your somewhat-apathetic teaching assistant, Jill. She is really just there as a part of the work-study program, and if there were an opening at the campus bookstore, she would have rather gone there instead, but there wasn′t, so she wound up here, in a job completely unrelated to her major.
You live in a nice neighborhood, with nice neighbors. One of them, to your delight, is a similarly ′eccentric′ fellow with impeccable taste in hats and ties, and possessing an enviable collection of pipes. You often talk over the white picket fence separating your backyards and on Serious Business (the only social network for the dapper and discerning gentleman). Sometimes it is regarding said impeccable tastes and impressive collection, sometimes it is regarding the weather, sometimes it is regarding the other man′s son. He has done a good job of raising the child, who, as far as you have seen, is excitable and friendly, although he has inexplicably terrible taste in movies. Nevertheless, he is a good kid, and you have never minded having to watch him when your friend asked.
You are a good-natured family man, although you are now sadly divorced from your dear wife, Lila, who now lives a couple of blocks over. You are trying to remain friends, and though it′s still pretty doggone awkward to see her around the grocery store, you both seem to be getting along okay, all things considered. Your twelve-year-old son, Kyle, thinks that you are a hopeless dweeb, for much the same reasons that your students think you are ′eccentric.′ When he visits, he is mostly absorbed in his Nintendo 3DS or fiddling around with his iPhone, paying little mind to your Important Lessons about true gentlemanly style and behavior.
Kids these days and their computers.
You just don′t understand it. But then again, you′ve never had much of a mechanical knack. Like, at all. Anything more complicated than a basic pocket calculator will resist and silently belittle your futile attempts to operate it. You are almost afraid to touch the computer in your office, lest you break it and have to pay for it; usually, you just let Jill take care of all that, since she seems to know what she′s doing. You don′t even bother typing up the syllabus at the beginning of the semester; you dictate it, and your trusty assistant types up a storm for you. All you have to do is retrieve them from the printer, which you are also certain bears a grudge against you and your bank account, with the way it goes through every conceivable color of ink so quickly.
Overall, though, you have a pretty comfortable, happy life. You couldn′t ask for more.
Well, except one thing.
You wish that you could bond with your son more, and that is where the whole mess started.
It is nearly Kyle′s birthday, and you have no idea what to get him.
You have gotten him some spiffy things the past couple of years—a small and serviceable gray fedora one year, a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle of computer innards the next. You figured that you could both work on the puzzle together. Make it a father-son project. He could tell you just how the computer parts line up and how they work, and you could piece it together based on his knowledge. Because you liked puzzles and he liked computers, and most of his videogames had puzzles of some sort. It seemed like a natural combination, something you could both have fun with. You had warm fatherly daydreams of completing the puzzle with him, then shellacking it together and hanging it up in the hallway, next to the puzzle of a fine haberdashery that you completed with your own father at the same age.
But that project fell through. He just wasn′t all that interested, and you didn′t want to press him into doing something he didn′t like or enjoy. So you let him go skateboarding outside with his school friends instead and quietly stored the puzzle box in Kyle′s overstuffed closet. Maybe some other day.
This year, you want to get him something truly marvelous, something that he will love and treasure just as much as his iPhone or his Nintendo gadgets. However, you have no real clue what to get him. You ask the IT fellow at the university when he is in to update the office computer, and he shrugs before returning to his work, mumbling each step to himself as he sets up the equipment. Jill suggests getting the kid a T-shirt with his favorite cartoon character on it, or something. A bit plain, she tells you, but it′s useful, and every kid has some kind of lucky shirt or lucky socks or something. You appreciate her suggestion, but you don′t want to get Kyle just a boring old T-shirt! Thirteen is an important age, and you want to get him something truly spiffing. After all, it may be one of your last chances to spend time with him before he′s too grown-up to hang out with his old dad.
So you discuss possible birthday presents with your neighbor while he is unrolling the garden hose to wash the car. You have never heard a bad idea out of this fine fellow, so you are keen to hear what he has to say.
He suggests observing and taking a keen interest in Kyle′s interests. Perhaps the two of you can also bond through this interest! Just like he and John are bonding through the art and science of practical jokery. He is also thinking of giving the boy real stage magic lessons! The boy needs some cheering, he confides; he seems to be in a bit of a funk lately, if the angry scribbles on his walls and beloved posters are any indication. The boy is smart, and he catches on quick—it should be just the thing to bring him back on the sunny side of the street! ″Maybe I′ll even share some of my old tricks someday, like the one with the safe!″ he says brightly. ″You know, when he′s acquired enough man-grit.″ The neighbor fellow is simply one who does not have the time to be gloomy, and this is one of many things you appreciate about him. No matter how dire the circumstances, a true gentleman always maintains hope! ″So! What is your boy interested in, then?″
″Computers and videogames, for the most part,″ you answer with a hopeless but good-natured chuckle. ″I′m afraid I am mired in square one, with little hope of escape.″
He chuckles sympathetically. ″I suggest you find a way to obtain one of those online whatsits—the ones you play with other people! John has been planning to play one with his internet chums,″ he says cheerfully.
″Oh?″ you ask.
″Indeed! He is terribly excited about it. And I must confess, it sounds like good, clean fun.″ He shifts his stylish cherry-wood pipe to the other corner of his mouth, smiling as he looks up at the cloudless blue sky. ″Perhaps someday, we can play together! Fathers versus sons!″
″That sounds fantastic, old friend!″ You smile as well, bolstered by your friend′s optimism. ″Might I be able to beg you for the name of the game?″
″Er...″ The neighbor fellow pauses, thoughtfully tapping his index finger on the bulb of the pipe, trying to figure out the correct name. ″I am afraid I don′t quite recall, but it begins with S. Perhaps something like ′Sabre′?″
″Sabre? A proper gentlemen′s dueling game, then?″ you ask, interested. You already like the sound of this. It sounds so much more proper and honorable than the types of games that Kyle usually plays, where his little computer-man has to hide in the shadows and garrote other little computer-men at random. So very unsporting! ″Why, that would be the most splendid thing.″
″Indeed it would! Either way, though, I′m just glad to see the boy excited,″ he says. ″It′s been nice talking to you today, Doctor, but I must get going. The car needs washing.″ He motions to the dusty old car in the driveway, upon which John has doodled ′WASH ME′ with his finger, underneath a panicked, wide-mouthed stick figure.
″Of course! I do apologize for holding you up,″ you say as you wave to your friend. ″Do be careful not to get your hat wet!″
″Oh, of course not!″he replies, waving back as he picks up the garden hose with his other hand and rolls it over towards the car.
You turn to leave as well, eager to collect your Wallet and do some birthday-present shopping down at the Maple Valley Mall.
Once inside your small but respectable house, you take a moment to swap out your hats on the rack near the door, placing your dark brown lazing-about-the-house bowler on one oak prong and picking up your fine black shopping fedora instead. You have a wide range of hats for every occasion. There is one for lazing around the house. There is one for shopping. There is one for Christmas shopping. There is one for fun Sunday afternoon drives through the countryside. There is one for picnics. One for weddings. One for funerals. A whole lot of hats, is what I′m saying. It′s not so much a hat rack as a hat Christmas tree, with multiple layers of hats upon hats.
The ones you like the most, though, are the two up top. They are important hats! Several birthdays ago, you took Kyle and Lila to a local minor-league baseball game, before the team moved and the stadium was largely abandoned. You never liked baseball very much (you were never one for sports), but Lila and Kyle did at the time, so you treated the whole family and you bought matching hats for everyone as a souvenir. Your team lost, but it was still a good day, and you all had a great time.
You make sure that your appearance is suitably dapper in the big hallway mirror. Once you are satisfied with the angle of your shopping hat, you smile at yourself, then pick up the Wallet from the table underneath the mirror and proceed on out the door.
The Wallet is, of course, the only logical Fetch Modus for the discerning gentleman. You′ve tried a few others before—you thought that you would enjoy the Puzzle Modus, and you accidentally stumbled into the Fibonacci Heap Modus and couldn′t change it back—but it went about as well as your attempts to use the smart-phone and the computer. You had to get poor long-suffering Jill to fix it just so you could pry your lesson plans out and start teaching. You apologized profusely, of course, for holding up her busy day, and bought her a bag of gummy bears to make it up to her, since it was a hard task. Although she is much better than you are at technological stuff, that isn′t saying much; there are probably well-trained dogs better suited to such tasks. She can manage all of your class databases and the grading program with little difficulty, but she has no idea how to code or program, and she is not very good at math beyond about a ninth-grade level. So she had a tough time, but she persevered and managed to wrestle the Fibonacci Heap Modus back into a civilized man′s Fetch Modus.
So you have stuck with what works ever since.
You even got her to lock it so you couldn′t change it again even if you were so tempted.
With your Sylladex all properly stocked and ready to go, and your hat at just the right angle, and your tie perfectly smoothed down, you shuffle out to the garage, hop in your perfectly respectable station wagon, and chug away at a reasonable speed completely within the legal limits posted by the state government.
The gangly teenager at the game store has no idea what game you are talking about, and explaining it seems an increasingly futile business. He merely gives you a puzzled stare before offering you a different game—another one of those unsporting affairs where you must garrote other players′ little computer-men from the shadows before they garrote your own. He advises you that it is totally the hottest game on the market right now, and it is available for pre-order. And if you pre-order it, you get a nifty keychain. It is a tiny but impressively detailed replica of the grizzled, knife-wielding fellow on the box.
You politely decline and genuinely wish him a good day before heading on to the next game store, and the next, and one more out in a largely-abandoned strip mall towards the edge of town. None of them know what you′re talking about, either, although they also offer you different games Kyle might enjoy. You decline each one of them, feeling somewhat miffed that this game is apparently nowhere to be found on God′s green Earth.
You are at a loss. You have no idea what you′re doing wrong here. It is possible, you suppose, that you misheard the title. Or perhaps your elucidation was just not up to snuff today (although you discard that possibility after a few moments′ deliberation, because one thing you pride yourself on is being so plain and clear in your speech). You just don′t know, and you sit in the station wagon pondering for awhile.
After a few minutes, you pick up your phone and call Jill to explain your dilemma. You have never seen her playing a videogame before, yet you are quite hopeful that she can help. One of the few times you have ever seen her smiling is when you proposed a class scavenger hunt, largely as an excuse to go outside on an absolutely gorgeous late-spring day. She didn′t join a team—no one would have her—but she steamrolled the competition anyway and brought all of the items to the gazebo where you waited, grinning so big you could see all of her teeth. She is good at finding things, so you have faith that she can find this game for you, no sweat.
″Sure, Boss,″ she replies.
″Much appreciated. My apologies for bothering you. I′ll talk t—″ you start, only to be interrupted.
″Okay, got it. It′s called Sburb, not Sabre. It only went into beta about a day ago—which might be why you had trouble finding it. Because it hasn′t hit a wide release yet,″ she says. You wonder what manner of sorcery she had to perform to get an answer this quickly, but you don′t really care, because you have answers now! Maybe she can even provide a nudge in the right direction. ″But the good thing is, it′s not a closed beta. Not very open, either, but it looks like it can be obtained fairly easily if you jump through the right hoops.″
″I shall prepare myself to hop through whatever hoops are necessary,″ you say pleasantly. You have no idea what she is talking about, but you don′t want to interrupt her. Some of it may be important.
″Give me a minute.″ She taps away at her computer. The sound of keys clacking is like machine-gun fire. ″You can sign up on a particular website and have a chance of getting an invite code during the month. It′ll spawn a few different invite codes, so you can invite your friends along with you. Then you all report to the website again, and it will allow you to download both copies of the game. You need both a server and a client player.″
″Uh?″ you say intelligently.
″So do you want me to sign you up for this?″
″Please! That would be lovely,″ you say.
More rapid-fire machine-gun typing. ″There you go, Boss. Anything else you need?″
″Not this very moment, but thank you for offering... Say! Would you like to run through the game with me? So I can get a little practice in?″ You smile brightly, thinking this sounds like the cleverest idea. You will be able to impress your son with how good you are at the game, and then maybe he won′t treat visiting you like going to a particularly depressing wake.
″Sure, I got nothing better to do.″
″Of course I would never expect you to sacrifice your valuable time for free,″ you offer politely, as if you didn′t just hear her accept the initial invitation without hesitation. ″I am prepared to compensate you for your kind assistance.″
″Cool.″
″I appreciate it! Thank you so much, Jill, you′re a dear.″
″No problem at all, Boss.″
″I shall talk to you soon, I trust?″
You press the ′end call′ button and carefully tuck your phone back into your pocket before starting the car up so you can head home.
The following Serious Business has been submitted in a frank and forthright manner for FedoraFreak′s judicious appraisal:
officeurchin1280 – visited new store that gives out free silk ties with each dress shirt. good quality ties.
wellPressedAttire – officeurchin1280: pl advise name of business, location, hours. wish to patronize this fine establishment upon return to States.
officeurchin1280 – WellPressedAttire: sending helpful map, also photo of impressive, pleasing dress shirt selection.
grayslacks66 – officeurchin1280: would like to inquire regarding slacks selection at aforementioned establishment.
officeurchin1280 – grayslacks66: will take second look ASAP. neglected to inspect slacks, as need for dress shirt was pressing emergency.
grayslacks66 – officeurchin1280: much appreciated.
(You are glad that your friends all seem to be having fantastic and exciting days! You might as well add your own exciting update. Maybe you can even recruit a couple of your colleagues to help you practice! The more, the merrier. You will be the best Sburb player ever, at this rate! Won′t Kyle be impressed? You sure hope so!)
FedoraFreak has submitted the following Serious Business in a frank and forthright manner for the judicious appraisal of his peers:
FedoraFreak – obtained birthday present for son. hope that he will enjoy it.
grayslacks66 – FedoraFreak: wonderful news. offer congratulations.
FedoraFreak – wish to request assistance in setting up present for son′s use.
wellPressedAttire – FedoraFreak: would love to, but am currently on business trip elsewhere. offer my sincerest apologies.
FedoraFreak – wellPressedAttire: apologies unnecessary, but graciously accepted nonetheless.
WellPressedAttire – FedoraFreak: thank you.
officeurchin1280 – FedoraFreak: would be glad to offer assistance, if possible.
FedoraFreak – officeurchin1280: require assistance, guidance, in videogame.
officeurchin1280 – FedoraFreak: pl email with details, may be able to assist.
(Splendid! It seems you have obtained one more player for your game. Perhaps you can have him confer with Jill to get things up and running, once you have obtained the codes for the game.)
grayslacks66 – FedoraFreak: unfortunately, unable to assist. also apologize most sincerely.
FedoraFreak – grayslacks66: apologies again unnecessary, again graciously accepted nonetheless. require one more player.
2busy4this – wish to partake as well. pl elab
FedoraFreak – 2busy4this: splendid. will email codes and details ASAP.
2busy4this – wait what are we talking about
2busy4this – i wanted directions to the intriguing business mentioned by officeurchin1280
2busy4this – looked away to tend to some tax forms for just a moment. now fear i am quite lost re: current subject.
You email him anyway, hoping he might join in your fun. 2Busy4this has always seemed like a fascinating gent. Surely he has a lot to offer your motley band of adventurers! What a game this will be! Playing with your best friends, your trusty assistant, and, soon, your beloved son. You can think of no better outcome, and you are enduringly grateful to the neighbor fellow for sharing his advice. Say! There′s an idea, expanding on one of his earlier flashes of brilliance. Maybe you can get your neighbor to play, too! And he could invite his son along as well. A fine kettle of fish that would be!
So you submit a private item of Serious Business to him—good old pipefan413—and hope that he answers soon, just in case 2busy4this is, in fact, too busy for this.
You luck out and find the codes sitting in your email inbox on April 13th, just four days before Kyle′s thirteenth birthday. That gives you plenty of time to get in some practice. You email them around to everyone you asked to help—Jill, officeurchin1280, and 2busy4this. Pipefan413 had to politely decline your request, as April 13th is his own son′s birthday, and he wished to spend all day baking and crafting wonderful presents. You understand completely. Of course you would not wish to tear your fine friend away from his son! You buy the boy a carrot cake cupcake from the corner bakery and send it over with your sincere best wishes, hoping that Pipefan413 does manage to cheer him up through their shared interest in magic and japery. You hope that you have a similar degree of success with your own boy on his birthday. Although you are not quite as good at baking as Pipefan413 is (that is to say, there are probably well-trained dogs out there that are better than you). You may ask him to give you a hand with that.
Jill cautiously walks you through installing both copies of the game, trying to parse the scant few instructions provided in the emails, and you relay the most relevant and important information to your colleagues. She claims that this will be a very cooperative affair, and everybody will need to pool their efforts and resources to help each of your little computer-men along. You can′t have a single cog out of line on this fine-tuned machine. You like this game already; you appreciate a good sense of order and efficiency almost more than anything else in the world.
Over the course of your collective lunch periods, the details are hammered out, and Jill admirably coordinates everything for you. You make a note to buy her a bag of those nice gummy bears for her trouble. The arrangement is this: 2busy4this will be your server player, you will be Jill′s, and officeurchin1280 will be 2busy4this'. Once your systems are all daisy-chained together, you will be able to begin playing in earnest. You are excited to a reasonable degree, perfectly suited to a fine and dapper gentleman such as yourself, and you are certain your colleagues are as well. (You are not certain about Jill′s levels of enthusiasm, or possible lack thereof, but you hope she will end up having fun either way.)
You confer with your colleagues to schedule your game session for five-o-clock that very evening. Quite fortunately, it seems as though everybody finds this an acceptable proposition.
FedoraFreak has submitted the following Serious Business in a frank and forthright manner for the judicious appraisal of his peers:
FedoraFreak – wish to advise participating colleagues that we are prepared to commence incredibly exciting activities. wish best of luck to esteemed gentlemen.
Officeurchin1280 – FedoraFreak 2busy4this: wish you fellows the same. may the best gent win!
