“Oh, I know,” says Matthew. “I’ve been — well — playing something interesting.” He smiles at Belinda.
“Playing?”
“On my computer.”
“A computer game,” says Harold.
“Not a game,” says Belinda.
“Not a game,” says Harold, shaking his head at Gwen as if she had mistaken whatever it is for a game.
“It’s something Belinda is developing. ‘Picture Frame.’ It’s partly a mystery,” says Matthew.
“More like a mystery,” Harold says, again to Gwen.
“Not really,” says Belinda. “It does have things in common with a mystery or computer games, adventure games, but it’s really not a game. You don’t win, you know? I mean, you don’t even try to win, winning is irrelevant, just not in the picture. So it isn’t like a game. And you don’t try to solve anything, so it isn’t like a mystery. You just find things out. You find things out about characters, and ideas, and things that have happened to people, so it’s more like, well, snooping, spying on someone.”
“More like snooping,” Harold informs Gwen.
You jerk, thinks Belinda. “I’m not really ready to talk about it,” she says. “It’s still rough. Matthew’s just been trying it out.”
“I’m not getting it,” says Gwen.
“Well,” says Belinda. “Just to give you an idea — imagine that you’re looking at your computer screen.”
Gwen shudders theatrically. “The prospect terrifies me, but go ahead.”
“You’re a computer-phobe?” asks Belinda.
“Definitely,” says Gwen, “but go on.”
Belinda’s estimation of Gwen drops very low indeed. “Hmm,” she says. “That’s interesting. Well, if you can do it without making yourself sick, imagine that you’re looking at the screen and there’s a page of text on it. But some of the words and phrases are active. If you click your mouse — ”
“Oh, dear. I was afraid we were going to hear about the dreaded mouse. Just the idea of clicking my mouse sounds obscene.”
“You click your cursor, then — ”
“A curse on cursors!” cries the witty Harold.
“ — on one of these active words,” continues Belinda without a pause, “you go immediately to some other text. Okay?”
“Is it okay, Gwen dear?” asks Harold. To Belinda he says, “You have to excuse her, she’s quite the little Luddite. It’s part of her charm.” Belinda decides that she despises Harold, utterly. Nothing he could possibly do could change her opinion.
“The text you jump to,” Belinda continues, determined now not to be stayed, “is related to the word you clicked on — in some way. It adds something to it, or it takes you somewhere that’s related to it. I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”
“Is this what happens in theory,” Gwen asks, “or what really happens in the game?”
“Uh-uh-uh,” cautions Harold.
“Sorry,” says Gwen. “The — whatever you call it.”
“I want you to understand how it works,” says Belinda, “before I get into the game itself. Oh, shit, now I’m doing it. Call it a game — who cares? Suppose you click on the name of a character — zip — you’re into something about that character’s childhood. You find out that he” — an instant’s pause — “was an orphan, or something like that. But it’s not all text, you see, there are illustrations, too. And they have active elements.” With her finger, she draws on the tablecloth. “You might have a drawing of this table, from above, with Harold here, me here, Matthew here, and Gwen here. We’d all be active elements. Click on Harold, and some text might appear on the screen, or a new picture, anything. But it would tell you something more.”
“Like what?” asks Gwen.
“Oh, that his hand is on my knee, or whatever.” A pause. “Just kidding,” she says.
[to be continued on Thursday, April 6, 2023]
Issue Number 21 of The Babbington Review is now on Substack.
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🎧 466: “Oh, I know . . .”