The Zero Game

“Of course you do. Sauls bit his bullet… I’m on my way to biting mine… but Pasternak – that’s the one that’ll frustrate you the rest of your life. You don’t get to punch him, or yell at him, or have the big final confrontation scene with the bittersweet ending. It’s the curse of being an overachiever – you can’t handle a problem that can’t be solved.”

“I don’t need it solved; I just want an answer.”

“Same difference, Harris. The thing is, if you expect me to suddenly scratch your back… well… you know how the cliché goes…”

Forever the lobbyist, Barry makes his point clear without ever saying the actual words. He’s not giving any info unless he gets something in return. God, I hate this town.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Nothing now,” he replies. “Let’s just say you owe me one.”

Even in an orange jumpsuit and behind six inches of glass, Barry still needs to believe he has the upper hand.

“Fine. I owe you one,” I tell him. “Now what about Pasternak?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he knew who was really driving the train. Sure, he took advantage of you with the game, but that was just to get the mining request in the bill.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? It was an unimportant request for a defunct gold mine in South Dakota. He knew Matthew would never say yes to it – not unless he had a good enough reason,” Barry says. “From there, Pasternak just took the game and put in the fix.”

“So Pasternak was one of the dungeon-masters?”

“The what?”

“The dungeon-masters – the guys who pick the bets and collect the cash. Is that how the mine request got in the game? He was one of the guys who ran it?”

“How else would it get there?” Barry asks.

“I don’t know… it just… all those months we were playing… all the people we were betting against – Pasternak was always trying to figure out who else was in on it. When the taxi receipt would come in, he’d go through each one, hoping to read handwritings. He even made a list of people who were working on particular issues… But if he was a dungeon-master…” I cut myself off as the consequences sink in.

Barry cocks his head to the side. His cloudy eye’s staring straight at me; his glass eye’s off to the left. Out of nowhere, he starts to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What? If he were a dungeon-master, wouldn’t he know all the other players?”

Barry stops laughing, realizing I’m not in on the joke. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Be honest, Harris – you haven’t figured it out?”

I try my best to act informed. “Of course – I got most of it… Which part are you talking about?”

His foggy eye looks right at me. “There is no game. There never was one.” His eye doesn’t move. “I mean, you know it was all bullshit, right? Smoke and mirrors.”

As his words creep through the receiver and into my ear, my whole body goes numb. The world feels like my personal gravity’s just doubled. Sinking down – almost through – the seat of my orange plastic chair, I weigh a thousand pounds.

“What a punchline, huh?” Barry asks. “I almost fell over when they first told me. Can you imagine – all this time spent looking at coworkers, trying to figure out who else is placing bets, and the only people actually playing the game are you and Matthew?”

“Two minutes,” the guard behind Barry announces.

“It’s brilliant when you think about it,” Barry adds. “Pasternak talks it up; you believe him because you trust him… then they send in a few pages, fill out some taxi receipts, and you guys think you’re in on the biggest secret Capitol Hill has to offer. It’s like those flight simulator rides at Disney World, where they show the movie on-screen and shake your car a bit – you think you’re flying up and down a roller coaster, but you really haven’t moved an inch.”

I force a laugh, my body still frozen.

“Man, just the thought of it,” Barry adds, his voice picking up steam. “Dozens of staffers placing bets on unimportant legislation without anyone knowing? Please, what a dream – like anyone here could even keep their mouth shut for longer than ten seconds,” he teases. “Gotta give Pasternak his credit, though. You thought you were playing a great joke on the system, and the entire time, he’s playing the joke on you.”

“Yeah… no… it’s definitely amazing.”

“It was humming like clockwork, too – until everything with Matthew. Once that happened, Pasternak wanted out. I mean, he may’ve signed up to convince you – that’s part of any lobbyist’s job – but he didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“That’s… That’s not what I heard,” I bluff.