“What about medical professionals?” Gene said as he stomped heavily down in his dress shoes on two glowing panels below his feet. When he spoke he didn’t look at Ethan, which was just as well. The symbols flying up the screen in front of them were going way too fast for Ethan to make eye contact either. He had already fucked up their streak twice, they were not going to lose a third time because of him.
“That’s a really crowded space.” He was trying very hard not to sound like he was panting. He didn’t want to hear the jokes about being out of shape. He was not out of shape. He just couldn’t map the neon arrows to dance moves fast enough. For a game that literally had no stakes whatsoever, it bore the stress of a Situation Room briefing.
“Especially these days with healthcare reform, and movements to sabotage or otherwise reverse healthcare reform.”
“Hmmm…” Gene was like a Dance Dance Revolution robot. He hardly seemed to notice they were playing. When they cleared the round, he merely stretched, looking relaxed and satisfied. “Okay … what about the internet? Open society, free speech, that sort of thing?”
He shrugged. “Good causes for sure, but how would I break in? I don’t have any particular expertise that would make me attractive as a lobbyist on that issue.”
Gene smiled. “I can make you extremely attractive.”
There was nothing to do with comments like that but for Ethan to roll his eyes. He had an hour or two before Lola wanted to meet and he had let Gene talk him into going to a local barcade to blow off steam. Evening Dance Dance Revolution … maybe this was the Gen-Z version of lunchtime racket ball, he did not know.
He was grateful that though his pulse was elevated, the air conditioner was running so high in the space he wasn’t sweating at all.
The video game hummed ominously as it loaded up the next song. Everything filled with artificial urgency. Gene cracked his knuckles and hopped back into position.
“Hey,” he said, straightening up just seconds before the countdown. He pointed at the screen with his thumb. “What about e-sports? That’s a thing. Who does their lobbying now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could be a good fit.”
“But I’m not much of a gamer. I thought the whole point was to do something I gave a damn about?”
“Yeah but you like sports. You took me to that hockey game, and I bet you’re the guy always obsessing over your March Madness bracket, aren’t you?”
“I went to Duke, that’s practically a graduation requirement.”
“Well, e-sports is the same basic culture. Just with—” Effortlessly he jumped back into the rhythms of the game while Ethan’s attention ping-ponged between the demands of the screen and his employee’s line of reasoning.
“Video games,” Gene finished.
Somehow Ethan managed to get through another song without twisting his ankle. He endured a minimum amount of scolding from the stylish digital avatars meant to coach him in the mastery of the standing seizure that seemed the only way to win the game.
“This is not really my type of music,” Ethan noted.
“That’s no excuse. They have all kinds of music.”
It was a tremendous relief when Gene signaled he’d had enough by hopping off the machine and moving towards the high table where they had left their drinks
“They don’t have my kind of music,” Ethan said.
“Oh yeah? And what’s your kind of music?”
“Alternative.”
“…Alternative to what?”
“It means—”
“I know what it means.” Gene rolled his eyes, a smile plastered on his face that quickly began to seem malicious when he added, “Oldies. Classic rock.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
That was probably unprofessional. But grabbing drinks with his subordinate when he had a client meeting in an hour was also unprofessional. In for a penny… Ethan thought.
Gene took a sip of his beer. “Okay, well … go on then, cue something up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever your favorite playlist is on your streaming service of choice. Cue it up.”
Ethan took out his phone, and glanced through his lists before settling on one that seemed a good reflection of his tastes while also offering limited opportunities for snark. “Okay… here.”
He selected a song to play, only for Gene to frown, skim down the list and interrupt one song with another.
“It’s like a picture into your past,” he noted. “I bet you were like one of the floppy-haired kids on Dawson’s Creek.”
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