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A few weeks back we were informed that JANE'S A10 was cancelled. We knew there were mysterious forces at work here, and we knew the man for the job. We phoned Benny "the Nuke" Thompson, only recently released from the hospital after the unfortunate box bomb incident.
Benny is one of those guys who knows everything and has contacts everywhere. If anyone could get the scoop, Benny could. Here is the transcipt he sent me after his meeting last week.
I hate this job. I only do it because it reminds me of my childhood. You know... danger, fear, insecurity... that kind of thing.
Anyway, I knew just who to contact. The JANE'S mole agreed to meet me at my favorite bar in San Hosea. I have no idea who the guy was. He wore a ski mask and his voice seemed to change in pitch several times during our conversation. He was medium height and medium build.
I noticed that his briefcase bore the monogrammed initials BB. He told me I could call him Al. Al lit up as we began our conversation. His hands were shaking.
Q: Al, as you know, the Internet simming community was hit by a bomb with the news that A10 was cancelled. Can you fill us in? What's the story behind the spin?
Al: I don't know if I can take it anymore, Benny. The pressure is too much for me. It was easier in the military. Are there good jobs in journalism?
Q: Are you kidding? See this scar (I rolled up my sleeves to show him the skin grafts.) It's dangerous out there!
Al: Yeh (glancing around nervously.) Working for a civilian intelligence agency is no picnic either! Anyway, you wanted to know about A10, right?
Q: Well, not exactly. My editor wants to know about A10. I just wanted to know if there were any good jobs in the sim industry. (Al buries his face in his hands and starts to sob. I motion to the waiter and order a couple of whiskies.)
Q: Al, Al? You okay?
Al: Sure, sure... just gimme a second to pull myself together. (The whiskey arrives and Al downs his like a trooper.) Ok. I think I can do this now.
Q: So... it seems like A10 was quite important to you...
Al: You give the best years of your life, you know? All for a dream....
Q: Wow...
Al: You know its out there. You can feel it. And you just want to share it with the world...
Click to continue
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Q: You wanted to give the world the best A10 sim ever, didn't you?
Al: Yeh. And then all the good stuff follows after. Power, money, fame....
Q: From more great sims?
Al: Nah! From my mother-in-law. She offered me a million bucks to get out of the business and stay home and raise my family.
Q: Wow. It is tough out there.
Al: You have no idea. Do you know in the last six weeks of the A10 project I was working 70 hours a week?
Q: Incredible.
Al: Women just don't understand the military simulation thing. They don't understand the warrior psyche.
Q: Too true. But Al... our readers want to know.. what really happened?
Al: (Glancing nervously around the room again. His eyes settle on a dim corner where a husky older woman seems to have her face buried in her beer.) We don't really know. In fact, no one seems to know! (His eyes widen...) Sure, there were the usual delays and problems... but we weren't that far from beta, and we knew this game would sell very well, probably even better than WW2 Fighters.
Q: That's what I figured too. Look at Dynamix game, it's still selling out there.
Al: Exactly. And our game was far better, and could appeal to even a wider audience, from the novice all the way to the hardcore crowd.
Q: So.... what DO you know?
Al: There was a payoff.
Q: You mean....?
Al: Yes! (Glancing nervously across to the corner booth again.) We were all spending way too much time away from home. We think.... (just then the husky woman turned to face her waiter, and Al's face went white.) It's her! It's her! I gotta go!
Q: (I grabbed his shirt.) Al! Al! What is it? Who is that woman?
Al: She did it! She killed A10! (The woman rose from the table and moved menacingly toward us.) It's.. my mother-in-law!
Al fled from the bar. The woman moved quietly to follow him. I quietly followed her toward the door. I noticed she was packing, and I saw the brand name tag of her kevlar vest dangling out the bottom of her hand knit sweater. I watched from a window as she opened the door of her HUMVEE and then drove away...
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