Chapter Twelve
The Bright Sparks office was tucked into a refurbished mews building just behind the High Street. It managed to feel both cutting-edge and comfortably cluttered — high-end monitors sharing desk space with open hardware boxes and a suspiciously large coffee machine.
As William pushed open the glass door, a familiar chime announced his arrival.
“In the back!” a voice called.
He passed a shelf stacked with Spark Quest games — the very ones Ollie had been eyeing — and found Ben Carter and James Fellows huddled over a large screen. The artwork looked suspiciously like a high-definition version of Noah’s Ark.
Ben looked up first, grinning. “William! Good to see you. Recovered from The Meeting Place yet?”
“Just about,” William said, stepping into the workspace. “I think my kids are still talking about the ‘brigade’.”
James leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
“They’re a force of nature, that lot. But they keep us honest.” He gestured at the screen.
“We’re finishing the logic for the new Flood Runner level.
It’s meant to teach resource management, but Ben keeps trying to turn it into a raven flight simulator. ”
“It’s biblical,” Ben protested. “The raven was the first out of the window.”
William smiled — the easy camaraderie reminded him of the station, men working toward something they believed in.
“I actually came in for something a bit more terrestrial. My house is a stone fortress, and the Wi-Fi dies at the kitchen door. Ethan’s trying to do schoolwork in a dead zone, and the younger ones think I’ve banned the internet. ”
“Ah, the Saltmarsh Special,” Ben said knowingly. “Those walls eat signals for breakfast. You’ll need a mesh network — three nodes at least. Maybe a hardwired backhaul if we can sneak the cabling behind the skirting.”
He glanced toward a smaller desk where a younger man was typing at speed. “Liam? You’ve got a gap on Thursday, don’t you?”
Liam, Bright Sparks’ field engineer, looked up. “Ten o’clock. I’ve done three houses on that lane — I know exactly where the interference hides.”
“Perfect,” William said.
He stayed a few minutes longer, the conversation drifting from networking to the work Ben and James poured into their games.
They spoke about them not just as products, but as tools — ways to help children understand the bigger story of the Bible.
Their mission was serious, even if they joked about raven physics.
William’s gaze drifted back to the shelf of games, something softening in him.
“Actually… while I’m here, could you help me choose a few games? Something for each of the kids.”
Ben brightened. “Great! Ages?”
William hesitated, then smiled. “Four, six, nine, eleven, and thirteen — although Ethan will be fourteen next week.”
James let out a low whistle. “A full squad. All right — tell us what they’re like.”
William leaned one shoulder against the counter.
“Jake’s four. Loud. Curious. Loves animals. Thinks everything is an adventure.”
Ben immediately pulled a bright, colourful box from the shelf. “Animal Ark Adventures. Gentle puzzles, lots of creatures, simple stories. He’ll be in heaven.”
“Sophie’s six,” William continued. “Thoughtful. Easily overwhelmed. She likes quiet things.”
James selected a soft-toned game with watercolour artwork. “Peaceful Paths. Calming puzzles, slow pace, no timers. Good for kids who need gentleness.”
“Ollie’s nine. Bright. Distractible. Competitive. Already obsessed with your Spark Quest posters.”
Ben grinned and handed over a bold, action-packed box. “Then he needs Spark Quest: Explorer Edition. Fast, clever, loads of challenges. He’ll disappear into it.”
“Mia’s eleven. Steady. Responsible. She likes stories more than action.”
James reached for a game with a lighthouse on the cover. “Lightkeepers. Strategy and narrative choices. You rebuild a community after a storm. Thoughtful — she’ll love it.”
“And Ethan…” William paused. “He’ll be fourteen next week. He used to love complex games. He’s… finding his way back to things.”
Ben softened, choosing a darker-toned box. “Flood Runner. Leadership decisions. Resource management. Protecting a community through a crisis. One of our best.”
William turned the box over in his hands. “He’ll like this.”
James nodded. “Then he’ll find his way back in his own time.”
“I’ll take all of them,” William said.
Ben blinked. “All?”
“All,” William repeated. “It’s time they had something good.”
As he paid, a quiet reassurance settled in him. He’d spent years in a job where he saw the world breaking; it was good to stand among people who spent their days building things meant to last.
Thank you for the neighbours, he thought as he reached the car.
It was becoming a more frequent prayer — not a plea for survival, but a simple recognition of a Father who was filling the empty spaces of his new life with good men.
“Right,” he muttered, checking his watch.“Daniel Harper will be expecting me.”