In the game, Matthew’s characters killed monsters, as they did every single
night. But tonight, as Matthew thoughtfully chopsticked a dumpling out of the
styrofoam clamshell, dipped it in the red hot sauce and popped it into his mouth,
his little squadron did something extraordinary: they began to win.

There were eight monitors on his desk, arranged in two ranks of four, the top
row supported on a shelf he’d bought from an old lady scrap dealer in front of the
Dongmen market. She’d also sold him the monitors, shaking her head at his
idiocy: at a time when everyone wanted giant, 30″ screens, why did he want this
collection of dinky little 9″ displays?

So they’d all fit on his desk