Dinario reflected, sinking into a plush armchair. Why had he suddenly felt so uneasy in his own office? His jacket felt constricting, and his bald head was itching. Everything around him was grating—the chair, the desk, the semi-circular panoramic window.
He stared with irritation at Noxum. The headquarters of the city's traditional guilds seemed to look down on him—his office on the top floor of the casino was still lower than their illuminated facades. The hemisphere of his building stood at the level of the valley, while the guild headquarters were built into the cliffs, looming over the entertainment districts of the Gaming Guild.
Identical 25-story towers faced the river that curved around his casino. From the outside, they looked like monolithic bastions, but he knew that at least a third of those guild headquarters were overrun by squatters.
His eye twitched in sync with the faintly flickering neon.
Dinario no longer remembered when he had last seen his hometown, Corcotia. It must have been the year the teleport finally ceased to function.
And did he even long to be there more often—now that he had become one of the pillars of society? Deep down, he knew: Nana would not have approved of what he had achieved. But achieve it he did. He had earned it through his own work.
The gaming guild he and his partner had once co-founded had grown into a massive establishment. The most pretentious building and the quarters sprawling around it—all were the fruits of their guild. The Casino set the tone for the entire city’s life.
Right in his head, he heard Nana’s voice: “This kind of tone? Is this what you call a life?”
Dinario frowned. All these years, he had carefully masked this internal dialogue.
When the teleport is restored, perhaps he will visit his relatives. His city.
And why were these thoughts surfacing so persistently today? Ah, yes. His birthday. Fifty-four. Well then. Happy birthday to me.
Memories of his youth surged. By tradition, the birthday boy would spend the entire day making rounds to friends and family. Someone would host a noisy feast; someone else would simply offer an embrace and a home-cooked treat. He felt his jacket tighten over his biceps again. Unpleasant. Or perhaps that unpleasant, constricting feeling was born from a desire for someone to embrace him.
It was hard to imagine him doing the same—visiting friends in Noxum. And who were his friends? Ilmar, his business partner? The city councilors? Ridiculous. The casino employees? The clients?
He walked over and clinked glasses with his own reflection in the convex glass.
The city was not devoid of warmth—he had seen examples of support and friendship, formed and dissolved in an instant at the gaming table.
But the temperature of Noxum felt not like the warmth of a hearth, but like a feverish heat.
“I spend too much time in the casino; that’s where these brooding thoughts come from,” he told himself, deciding to go out into the city. Get a massage. Relax. Ironically, all the best places for recreation were located precisely in the quarters over which the Gaming Guild sprawled. Here, entertainment existed for every taste, and even the thought of resting in his own guild’s district scratched at him unpleasantly.
Dinario wanted something special. A birthday—and no one to visit.
He went downstairs and walked through the halls: past people sitting at round tables. He nodded to one, greeted another. The casino wouldn’t let go—everyone had a desire to consume his time. He yanked at his collar—there wasn't enough air—and strode purposefully toward the exit. “Just don’t talk with me” he thought for everyone, knitting his brows as he pushed through the crowd.
Ilmar greeted him from the far end of the Golden Hall—fortunately, he was talking to someone. Dinario squinted: “A supplier? Atypical clothing for Noxum.” He suppressed his irritation at being distracted from his main goal—getting outside.
With wide strides, he passed the girls who began waving to him in greeting. He nodded, barely containing his annoyance. One of them watched her boss for a long time. A very long time.
Later, perhaps.
He and Ilmar had created an atmosphere of total immersion here. A person had no reason to leave the casino. Everything one could possibly desire was right here.
How he longed to go outside...
Once, everything had been clear. Work for the good of society, and you’ll get everything you want.
Thirty years ago — it was madness, more than half a lifetime—he was performing magic tricks in the Art Guild of his hometown. Back then, he merely sought to give games as much attention as they deserved. But there were no supporters. The games with the audience were simple. They attracted attention, but they didn’t hold it for long. The Art Guild of Corcoсia didn’t want to invest in serious development, and without the guild’s support, he could be nothing more than a craftsman. Но he wanted more. He wanted it desperately: to create an extensive, stable system. Games that would never let go of one's attention. He knew he was capable of it. He had always known.
In Noxum, he had succeeded in creating it.
Why, then, did he now feel so cramped within this perfectly constructed Gaming Guild and its pinnacle—the Casino? The Casino had become more important than anything else in the Gaming Guild, more important than the Guild of Artists. More important than all other guilds—it consumed the city’s attention with a massive lead.
Was this system truly so stable?
People were leaving the city; favelas were growing. They weren't limited to the caves anymore. Where did so many of them come from? Could the casino and the Gaming Guild be the cause?
Hastily, almost mechanically, he brushed the thought away. Gaming is a voluntary act. People themselves choose his guild. He had merely created a perfect machine for attracting and retaining attention. They had more сonsentis and money than all the other guilds combined. The city councilors were constantly borrowing from them to stabilize one system or another.
Games were the heart of an attention-oriented economy. They involve. They retain. Yes, there is truth in the fact that pulling attention back from a game and into life is exceedingly difficult. Yes, the decline of Noxum could be linked to this.
Thoughts of this nature always crept into his head in Nana’s voice.
Soon they will push through the restoration of the teleport. Fresh blood will flood the city. They will be able to attract anyone, flooding any restoration effort with money and Consentis.
Anything is possible if approached wisely. They built their guild. They would cope with the city`s problems as well.
But he wouldn't think about that today. Fifty-four... today he needs to distance himself from work. Just to get out into an open space.
One thought warmed and slightly relaxed Dinario: he would climb the mountain. He would contact his kin in Corcocia. Surely, they are waiting.
It's embarrassing to show this first attempt 😆
At the same time, I feel sorry for the almost three days I spent working on this video. I'm still looking for ways to make videos quickly.