Page 188 of Men in Shorts

Robert introduced himself and had his students do the same. They began by discussing the basic elements of games such as rules, goals, and processes.

“Enough talk for now,” he said after ten minutes. “Time to play. Each of you has in front of you a computer and a notepad. Choose one of the games on the screen and play it for fifteen minutes. As you play, write down everything you do, every choice you make and how you feel about it.” He saw a few faces scrunch up in skepticism. “This is a key skill in game design, learning how to observe while you’re experiencing, being in the moment while still analyzing. It’s not easy, and it doesn’t come naturally, but this is where it starts.”

In the back of the room, Liam lifted his chin and gazed at the ceiling in what Robert hoped was contemplation and not boredom.

“Anyway,” Robert continued, “be as objective or subjective as you like, but give us details. Then we’ll divide into groups and compare experiences.”

The students began their assignment, and soon the room filled with the low rumble of chatter. He went from table to table, answering questions while keeping one eye on the door.

I hope I’ve got the timing right.

Finally the person he’d been waiting for passed by. Robert hurried to the door and called out. “Oi, Tamara! Liam, look who it is.”

The physiotherapist who’d worked two of their matches last month turned round. “There you are,” she said to Robert, “my relentless recruiter.” She came back down the hall and smiled at Liam, who’d just joined Robert outside the classroom. “Nice to see you lads in street clothes and acting like civilized human beings instead of footballers.”

“Tamara’s teaching an exercise class for healthy backs,” Robert told Liam. “Not, like, fullbacks and center-backs. Like…back backs. The body part.” He pressed his lips together to stop his blethering, hoping his machinations weren’t too obvious.

“I figured that’s what you meant.” Liam suddenly brightened. “Do you need help setting up?” he asked Tamara.

“That’d be great.” She glanced at the sheet in her hand, then turned to the room behind her. “Looks like I’m in there.”

“Okay, I’ll join you in a second,” Liam told her. When she was gone, he turned back to Robert. “Do I look all right? Any food in my teeth?” He grimaced to display them.

“You look fine.” Robert tried to keep a straight face. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought I might—I mean, not ask Tamara for a job or anything, but just chat about what she does.” He shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets. “What her days are like and all. Maybe.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.” Robert risked a compliment he knew would be shrugged off. “I’m proud of you.”

“Well, I cannae just sit on my arse while you’re being all inspiring.” Liam started to turn away, then stopped. “Wait…Tamara said you recruited her. Did you arrange for us to be here at the same time?”

Oops. Caught out.“I asked Tamara if she wanted to volunteer, and I scheduled my class to overlap with hers, in case you wanted to pick her brains about physiotherapy. But I never mentioned you to her.”

“Okay, good.” Liam straightened the front of his shirt but didn’t move away. “How’s it feel, by the way? Your class, I mean.”

“It’s definitely a challenge.”

“As much as playing football in silk knickers?”

“Even tougher. But I needed to do it.” Robert scanned the community center hallway, with its bright-but-outdated decor. “I’ve been so focused on saving this city as a whole, I forgot Glasgow is made up of individuals.”

“‘People Make Glasgow’—that’s one of the city’s own slogans.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Robert felt a warmth spread through him. “And you were right about another thing: Teaching this class reminded me that what I do for a living is pretty amazing.”

“So you’ll not be pursuing an IT position at a bank?”

“God, no. Never.”

“Good, cos I like the way you look just now, all fulfilled and that.” Liam took a step back. “In fact, I want tofeelthe way you look just now. So…” He took a deep breath, then turned on his heel and entered Tamara’s classroom.

Feeling pleased with them both, Robert returned to his own class to continue observing his students at play. There were smiles and frowns and furrowed brows, but no faces showed the blankness of boredom.

Near the end of the exercise, a man in the front row, who was maybe ten years older than Robert, raised his hand. “I looked you up online. You’re making an app to stop Glaswegians dying young?”

The rest of the class quieted, every eye fixing on Robert.

“Erm…yeah, Scott, is it?” The man nodded, and Robert congratulated himself on remembering the name. “It’s meant to be sort of a game, but the play involves real-life choices—and some not-so-real-life ones, too, just to keep it fun.”

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