This town looks like Disneyland after a riot. The buildings are colorful, idiosyncratic and new. But borded up, active businesses shoved up against empty bays. Trash blows around the streets and clots of flies hover over the sidewalk. Planes roar overhead on approach to the nearby runway, giving a sense of urgency nearby. But not here.

San Jose is a city that is not. The warm air and cool breeze feel almost tropical. The city itself is dystopian—a place William Gibson or Warren Ellis would imagine, but without the clever genetic mutants and colorful drug users. Here, only the homeless people seem at ease.

I’m looking at a dead pigeon laying on the sidewalk, headless, and I wonder: “What am I doing here?”

Oh yeah, the Game Developers Conference starts tomorrow. Weird place for brain trust of the video game business to convene.