Page 27 of Play Hard

“Stopping people’s pain,” Liam said. “Learning how the body works and how to make it work better when it’s out of sorts.”

“Sounds kinda like physiotherapy.”

Liam scoffed. “Physios have got advanced degrees.”

“Their assistants don’t.”

Liam paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “That’s a thing?”

“Of course. Physios make the rehab plan, but it’s their assistants who guide patients through the exercises, keep up their spirits and all.” Evan lifted his dram toward Liam. “You’d be ideal. And a physio’s practice would be a lot like a pub, with loads of different people coming and going.”

It did sound kind of fun. Plus, such a job would make Liam a better asset to the Warriors, maybe even a better footballer. “How would I do that?”

“Contrary to rumor, I haven’t got all the answers.” Evan drained his glass, then smiled. “But I know who might have this one.”

* * *

“So I was sitting therein the cold, cold stand, freezing my arse off…” Ben said as he paced near the foot of Robert’s bed.

“Okay.” Having washed his face and thrown on a few clothes, Robert went to his desktop computer to take notes.

“And I thought about why I come to watch Evan’s matches when I’m not keen on football. Like, what do I get out of it?” He flourished a hand in an upward spiral. “I mean, apart from seeing him in a really hot kit and then eating his amazing macaroni cheese recovery meal.”

Robert’s stomach growled at the mention of hot food. “Go on.”

“It’s the way he looks up at me from the pitch.” Ben pressed his palms to the front of his Warriors T-shirt. “I know he loves having me there. I love Evan, and I want to make him happy. I want that more than anything.”

“Right…” Robert waited for Ben to bring his point home.

“And that’s when I thought of your game. Not Glasgow Effect, but one of your old ones.” He perched on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. “Remember Rugby Armageddon?”

“Aye, of course.” Robert also remembered how Liam had tormented him during the game’s development by incessantly singing the title to the tune of “Rock Me Amadeus.”

“I didn’t care for it at first,” Ben said, “because I don’t like sports apart from curling. But just as I decided to uninstall it, I discovered myself thinking about it when I wasn’t playing. I pictured all the people on my team facing Armageddon without my help. I’d never met any of them in real life—they probably lived all over the planet—but I cared about them and this world I’d become part of.” He slapped his palm atop Robert’s deep-blue duvet. “It ended up being my favorite of all your games!”

Robert nodded as Ben’s message got through. “Because of the social element.”

“Exactly. So why not add that to Glasgow Effect? Let people’s characters interact with one another.”

“I love it.” Robert turned his desk chair around and started typing. “It’ll give players a sense of community and a reason to keep coming back—a reason to care.”

“Plus,” Ben said, “if people can see what others are doing, they’ll get all competitive and want to beat them.”

They brainstormed for a few minutes, and Robert outlined the email he planned to send to his university contacts tomorrow. He definitely needed the researchers onside before proposing such a massive upgrade to the funders on Monday.

Soon Ben left the flat with Evan, and Robert heard Liam coming down the hall. He spun to face the door. “I think I can fix things!”

Liam crossed his arms and leaned against the doorpost. “How?”

Robert summarized Ben’s insight about adding a social aspect, then blethered on about all the ways he might implement it. He knew he probably sounded like a hypercaffeinated hedgehog—he certainly felt like one—but he couldn’t stop the excitement bubbling over.

“That’s fucking brilliant, mate.” Liam finally came forward. “I just ordered us a pair of pizzas. They’ll be here in half an hour.”

“Oh thank God.” Robert pushed his keyboard drawer beneath the desk surface, ready to forget all about work. “That’s perfect timing.”

Liam sidled over and straddled Robert’s lap—to the extent he could, considering the arms of the office chair. “Are you still wearing you-know-what?”

“Of course.” Robert reached down into his tracksuit bottoms and pulled the fiver out of the knickers’ waistband. “Did you want this back, by the way?”

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