Chapter 27
twenty-seven
. . .
Maci
Game Chat Rune
Every game begins long before the opening whistle. Preparation. Then execution.
I don't remember the last time I was this nervous.
Not before job interviews, college presentations.
Not even before the biggest software launch I'd ever worked on.
Those were all things I could prepare for.
Today, thousands of people are about to experience something I helped build, not an abstract software system but a public launch of an expanded SGI e-football league.
The moment I step into the Gaming Pavilion, I stop.
Even though I've watched this come together over the last two weeks, seeing it completely steals the breath from my lungs.
The pavilion doesn't feel like a small arena—it feels like stepping inside the future.
Towering LED walls wrap around the circular space, displaying animated team logos that ripple across the screens as if they're alive.
Spotlights sweep overhead while music pulses through hidden speakers, vibrating gently beneath my feet.
Above the center stage hangs a massive, suspended scoreboard rotating live statistics and player profiles in every direction.
Below it, sit ten competition pods.
Five on one side.
Five directly across from them.
Each pod is enclosed in curved frosted glass trimmed with programmable LED lighting that shifts to each team's colors during introductions. Every station holds identical custom-built SGI gaming rigs, mechanical keyboards, wireless headsets, and ergonomic chairs embossed with the team logos.
Today's opening matchup.
Austin Dillos vs. Seattle Evergreens.
Each franchise fields five players on a team of ten.
One player competes at a time while teammates watch from their stations, feeding energy into every possession. Every touchdown, turnover, passing percentage, defensive stop, and victory adds points to the team's cumulative score.
Five matches.
One champion.
The concept started as a way to make football interactive all year.
Now, it looks like a professional sport.
Which, I suppose it is. You have to stretch your thumbs and fingers and be lightning quick.
A production assistant jogs toward me.
"Maci! We need approval on the player walkout graphics. Seattle had a change."
"I'm coming."
The next four hours disappear.
One monitor freezes during rehearsal.
A sponsor wants their logo moved two inches.
One announcer suddenly loses audio in his headset.
A camera operator asks if we should widen the opening shot. I go look into the shot and agree, “Widen it.”
Someone spills coffee near a production console.
Nothing catastrophic.
Everything urgent.
I solve one problem before another finds me.
By noon, I've walked nearly five miles inside the pavilion.
Sutton falls into step beside me somewhere between checking player hospitality and reviewing the halftime entertainment schedule. And the actual Armadillo star players signing autographs which includes Witt’s brothers, and Matt, his brother-in-law.
"You've stopped looking terrified."
"I don't have time."
She laughs. "That's usually how confidence works."
"I don't feel confident."
"You don't have to." She hands me another clipboard.
"You just have to keep moving."
I smile. "That sounds suspiciously like something an O’Ryan would say."
"It probably is, since I am one." We stop long enough to laugh. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
We separate again before I can answer.
The countdown clock drops below thirty minutes.
Crowds begin filling the seats.
Kids wearing replica Dillos jerseys point excitedly toward the gaming pods while parents take pictures beneath the giant SGI logo. Cosplayers mingle beside former and current NFL players from both teams, streamers from SGI’s platform sign autographs, and cameras capture every reaction.
Someone taps my shoulder.
Dara.
She quietly hands me an updated run sheet. "I made two timing adjustments."
I skim it.
"They're better."
"I thought so." She studies me for a second. "You know..."
"What?"
"I've watched a lot of people run events."
My stomach tightens. "Is that good or bad?"
She smiles.
"Witt would've changed seventeen things by now."
"Oh."
Her mouth twitches before she can stop it. "You've changed one."
"The sponsor graphic. Should I have changed more?"
She shakes her head and studies me like a contract. "No. YOU trust your abilities and planning. Witt expects perfection but what he doesn’t quite get is… it’s about how people feel about the experience. That means more than if the lighting should have a red spotlight.”
"I guess."
She folds her arms.
"You’re really good for this company. He trusts you. I knew when he said to set up the interview you would be hired.” Her smile grows. “Where is he anyway?”
Before I can respond—
"Maci!"
A volunteer waves frantically from the opposite side of the stage.
"The Evergreens need their warm-up stations reset!"
"I'm on it!"
The next hour passes in a blur.
Player introductions.
Smoke cannons.
Music.
Crowds chanting.
The opening kickoff.
Every time something threatens to go sideways, another member of the team solves it before I even arrive.
Because that's what we've built, not a production, a team.
Late in the third match, I finally stop long enough to look around.
Thousands of fans.
Ten competitors.
Broadcasters shouting over the roar of the crowd.
Children wearing oversized plush headphones pretending they're the next generation of champions. They’re so cute and fuzzy like little stuffed animals on their ears.
I smile. This is exactly what Witt wanted.
Maybe...it's exactly what gaming needed.
A hand lands lightly on my shoulder.
I turn.
Sutton smiles. "You did good."
Emotion catches me completely off guard.
"I didn't do it alone."
"No."
She looks around the pavilion. "But you led it and Witt let you. That means more than you know."
My throat tightens. Before I can answer, someone calls my name again.
Another problem.
Another solution.
Another chance to prove Witt was right to believe in me.
I take one last look across the arena.
Just for a second.
I don't see Witt anywhere.
That's probably a good thing.
If everything is running this smoothly...
It means he never had to step in.
I smile to myself.
Somehow...
That feels like the biggest compliment of all.