Unchosen Academy: Monster Games

by Buffy Brown

  Unchosen Academy

  Monster Games

  Buffy Brown

  Storybook LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Though based on accurate historical location and traditions — and inspired by controversial events — this is still a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner.

  Unchosen Academy ©2020 Buffy Brown

  contact@buffybrown.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Not part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  First Published as I Am Alive by Cameron Jace©2012 Cameron Jace

  For updates on new releases, promotions, and giveaways, you can sign up for my mailing list at

  www.BuffyBrown.com

  Edited by

  Mel Heeney

  Books by Buffy Brown

  Unchosen Academy : Monster Trials

  Unchosen Academy : Monster Games

  Unchosen Academy : Monster Rising

  Contents

  Copyright

  Contact Information

  Credits

  Books by Buffy Brown

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Pop Culture References

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  We are sitting in a circle around the fire. There is no food, though. All we have is candy bars we found in the pockets of the deceased. We can keep up until tomorrow.

  I’ve ended up back here after looking for Woo everywhere. Either I’ve imagined hearing someone calling me Tender, or someone is playing games with me. It crossed my mind that whoever whispered my name is hiding, afraid of the cameras or the Summit, but how am I going to find them in this vast Playa?

  Is it possible someone else lives here? How would they survive? Why hide here?

  I could totally imagine Woo surviving in here, alive and kicking, tho. But if so, why hasn’t he contacted me? What is it that I’m missing here?

  I’ve also contemplated telling the others, Leo or Bellona, but I realized I don’t fully trust anyone. Not with such secrets. I’m keeping my eyes open for spotting that little girl again or listening for whispers behind my back.

  Strangely, I am not waiting for the next episode of my favorite series on TV. I don’t care about homework, and I am not speculating about whether I should attend college or not. I don’t worry about how to please my mom, be a good child, make my bed, help the family, avoid sneaky boys, make friends, figure out why I haven’t been invited to some party, mourn over my bad luck, or be bored and think about trying cigarettes or drinking for a change. None of that matters anymore. I wouldn’t care if my mom burst into my room, yelling at me for all the troubles I have caused her and my dad, and how I ruined their relationship. My teachers could send me to detention and call me on my behavior. I wouldn’t care, not a bit. I wouldn’t even acknowledge anything they say. If they want to call me a Bad Kid, so be it. I have a life now. A scary and deadly life. Yes! But, at least, I get to defend who I am, and who I want to be. No one can control me and decide my future anymore.

  Bellona sits next to Leo, showing him her family photos, which she has popped out of her military wallet. I turn away and occupy myself with something else. I am surprised Shoegirl survived the dome. She believes that what happens to us is our destiny and that it’s for the best interest of the nation. It turns out that Shoegirl’s real name is Pepper.

  “So, what’s everyone’s story?” I ask.

  “We’re all Monsters.” Bellona sharpens the edges of her sword with a rock, now that Leo seems uninterested in her photos. Leo and a photo album? Are you kidding me? “That’s everyone’s story,” she says.

  “I am not,” I snap, but I wish I could take it back. Claiming I am not a Bad Kid might sound offensive. Besides, why would I expose myself? Who would believe me?

  “Is that what your iAm says?” Pepper is curious. “Because you don’t—”

  “Look like one?” I wish I could take this back too. Pepper is the least good-looking, the least educated, and the least enthusiastic. Her skin is covered with some sticky brown stuff as if she hasn’t washed for years. She has yellow teeth, and her stiff hair looks like a broom’s bristles on top of her head. Plus, the ear-to-ear dental bracing she wears. I feel for her in a world where she could be bullied and hurt repeatedly for wearing those.

  “You don’t behave like one,” remarks Bellona. “I saw what you did in the Breathing Dome.”

  Leo is silent and observant.

  “I think most of you don’t behave like Monsters,” Pepper elaborates.

  “How about Leo?” Bellona puts a slight smile on her face.

  “Leo is a Nine. We all know that,” intercepts Pepper, almost envious, chewing on jelly cola she has found in a dead kid’s pockets. She is not sharing with anyone. “I just don’t know why he is here with us.” She stares at him suspiciously.

  We look at Leo. We want to know, but he doesn’t flinch. He isn’t surprised or embarrassed, not showing the slightest need to explain himself. He glances at me for a second, though. I am surprised, unable to interpret the meaning of that look.

  “He is exhausted,” says Bellona. “Let me tell you about us, the ones you call the skaters.” She addresses Pepper. Six of the eleven survivors are skaters.

  “Were you in the army?” asks Pepper.

  “Yes,” Bellona confirms. “We were ranked Sixes two years ago. After six months in the military, we found out what horrible things the Summit makes the soldiers do. We invaded cities outside Faya to conquer one more town and add it to Prophet Xitler’s empire. We were ordered to kill women, children, execute and burn, without the right to ask why. All in the name of the Burning Man. They told us these people were our enemies, and that they threatened the survival of our nation, like Bad Kidz do.” I swallow hard. Did my dad do any of that? “The world outside Faya is mostly wastelands, all sand, and dust. Still, there is something precious out there that Xitler is looking for. We just don’t know what.”

  “But the world outside isn’t like that,” objects Pepper. “I have seen it on TV. The world is so big. There are countries of different ethnicities on every continent. They watch our games and pay highly for it. They have technology. Not necessarily like ours, but enough to let them watch the games.”

  “That’s the world beyond the oceans,” explains Bellona. “Faya is located on a continent that was once called North America. We occupy the west coast only. The rest of the continent is deserted and has a harsh climate. We’re not allowed out there. It’s called the Wastelands, and they never talk about it. This is where the real rebels are. Sometimes, they’d send us to the Wastelands to find certain people who the Summit are interested in. They seemed to be regular teens. We arrested them. The Summit tested them or something, and then we never heard about them again. Sixes and their families barely make a decent living. If you disobey orders as a soldier, you and your family get punished.” Bellona gazes into nowhere for a moment, as if daydreaming, as if she is seeing an invisib
le ghost. “We skaters are a faction of soldiers who refused to cooperate. We have decided to oppose and expose the Summit, but we couldn’t find help. Since everyone in Faya’s main concern is getting ranked, no one pays attention to such things. That’s when we heard about the Breakfast Club.”

  “You know about them?” Pepper sounds eager.

  “What is the Breakfast Club?” I ask.

  “The Breakfast Club is the revolution,” says Pepper. “They are our only hope. You could call them the really Bad Kidz. Prophet Xitler and the Summit are afraid of them. It’s rumored they live in the Wastelands.”

  “True. That’s why we were ordered to hunt them, and kill them and their families,” says Bellona. “They are led by a great leader who is as young as we are. They’re building an army of youngsters, really Bad Kidz, who want to unlearn the bad ideas and habits of Faya. They talk about things I have never even heard about.”

  “Selflessness, fearlessness, hope, abundance, strength, courage, loyalty, honor—” Pepper counts on her fingers. “I know a little about them. My brother was once arrested for downloading the Breakfast Club’s manifesto on his iAm.”

  I have underestimated Pepper. She knows a lot.

  “Bravery, unity, and belief,” Bellona continues. “There is much more actually. The bottom line is that they believe in a no-rank, no-Monster society. They know that Utopia is a lie.”

  “My brother used to say that they don’t live in the Wastelands,” says Pepper. “It’s just a rumor. In fact, it is said that their hideout is so clever, you wouldn’t figure it out.”

  “Sounds crazy,” I say. Leo screws up his face at my comment.

  “It’s not. They have inspired us to oppose the Summit. To say no to what we don’t believe is right,” says Bellona.

  “So were you punished and downgraded to Monsters?” asks Pepper.

  “Yes,” says Bellona. She doesn’t seem to regret it in any way.

  “You fools,” says Pepper.

  Bellona chuckles. “What’s with you, girlie? You sounded like you liked the idea seconds ago.”

  “I do, but I don’t like it when someone does something brave and finds out it was only foolish. Either you have a real solution, or you stick to the system.”

  “We are no fools,” says Bellona. “Although we know we’ll probably die in here, a soldier dies with honor, standing, not on her knees, never ashamed, as long as she stands for what she believes is right. We know the Summit is an evil dictatorship. We believe that repeated actions of oppositions and uprisings will lead to salvation. Honestly, you don’t know how good it feels being here.” Bellona exchanges serene looks with the other skaters. “We will give ’em hell.”

  “That’s exactly why they call every sixteen-year-old under the rank of Five a Bad Kid,” a skater-friend of Bellona explains. “Because if the iAm ranks you low enough to cause trouble, you’re a threat to the Summit. The slightest hint of you being a teen capable of speaking your mind freely endangers the Summit’s existence. The iAm knows how to spot a rebel.”

  “Since you Sixes seem to know a lot…” Pepper picks up the jelly she spat out earlier. Yuck. “What’s Generation Z?”

  “Good question,” says Bellona. “You know the Old America ended with what we call the Great Disease, right? The Great Disease started as a war, a one-hundred-year-long war between the governments and Generation Z.”

  “Generation Z,” the boy follows, “was the last generation of youngsters before the Great Disease. They were born with the latest technologies around. They were smart, effective, and powerful. Most of all, they started opposing governments all over the world, using technologies similar to the iAm to communicate with each other. Generation Z changed everything in terms of taste in music, movies, arts, politics, free thinking, and free knowledge. Generation Z, in every country in the world, continued to be a major threat to the governments who claimed they were practicing something called democracy, which is just another disguise for a totalitarian system like ours.”

  "This world we live in is based on Xitler's findings after the world ended,” Bellona catches on. “He found an endless amount of information about the past buried in what was called the Nevada Desert. It seemed as though someone in the Old America wanted to make sure that their history and civilization wasn't just going to vanish from the world, so they photographed, videotaped, and documented it, then buried them in the sand in hopes that someone would find them and restore this history. Xitler studied it and passed what he thought would benefit him in creating a new America, and omitted, forged, and changed what suited his system."

  "So all this we live in is an imitation of an old world smitten with Xitler's devious signature?" I ask.

  "Yes," the skater boy nods. "Take the Playa, for example. It's a twisted version of a place called Disneyland, which existed in the same address in the Old America. To Xitler, it seemed like the perfect location for his deadly games."

  "And what does the Burning Man have to do with that?" I ask.

  "The Burning Man was more like an x-marks-the-spot for the location of the containers. Originally, the Burning Man was a festive occasion in the Old America. They celebrated freedom of expression. That's all. Whoever left the containers behind didn't just leave it as an effigy in a world that has been totally destroyed. Xitler thought the Burning Man made a great God for his nation."

  “If he had all this information at hand, then why was controlling the nation with a ranking system so important?” I ask.

  “We’re not sure,” the boy said. “It looks like it's because of generation Z, the kids who eventually brought down Old America."

  “So basically, Faya is a bad movie remake of a once-awful movie.” Pepper considers.

  “How does the Breakfast Club know all that?” I wonder.

  “It’s rumored that they had found the containers before the Xitlers,” the boy explains. “Only they couldn’t collect enough information before Xitler’s family, and their army came and threatened to kill them.”

  “I suppose there is a reason why they’re called the Breakfast Club, too,” I say.

  “Yes,” Bellona smiles. “It’s named after an old movie. One that will live forever.”

  “Was it about the Monsters?” Pepper wonders.

  “Kind of. It was a movie about teens like us.” The boy explains.

  I sigh for a moment, taking in the information. “I see. "So, what happened next?” I ask.

  “What happened next is the story of the iAm itself ,” says Bellona.

  Chapter 2

  “The iAm was Generation Z’s idea,” Bellona says. “They started it for fun, using what they called smartphones at the time to self-quantify themselves.”

  “It was also called Body Hacking. Just the same as our iAm now,” says Roger This. I notice his t-shirt is too clean for a boy who fought for his life. “But then the applications started becoming more complex. The software started predicting unusual things, like how well the owner of the smartphone would do in his next exam in school, how long the owner was estimated to live, who the owner would fall in love with. Generation Z thought it was fun.”

  “Only the device was controlled individually by each member of Generation Z,” Bellona says. “Meaning that your data was private. You used it to tweak your body and mind the way you liked. It was a logical advancement in technology at the time. It was harmless until—”

  “Until the data was controlled and used by the government,” a skater boy says. “The governments thought: ‘What a magical device. We can control Generation Z with this device by knowing everything about them. We don’t need surveillance anymore. We don’t even need to spend money on weapons of war. We practically own teens by knowing everything they do twenty-four-seven.’ And that was the end of the world. The end of democracy, freedom of speech, and everything. No one could do anything without the government knowing it. Everyone got spied on, and their future predicted—”

  “That is exactly the same world we l
ive in now,” I remark.

  “So, the Monsters are only an equivalent to Generation Z?” Pepper wonders. “The ones who didn’t want to submit blindly to the Summit?”

  The skaters nod.

  “That is definitely not me,” says Roger This. “I loved the Summit. The computer and internet games they make are so awesome. I am only here because I didn’t study or go to school, spending my time playing Zeragon 5, trying to become a top scorer.”

  “Are you for real, or just a figment of my imagination?” Pepper snarls at Roger This.

  Bellona laughs. “By the way,” she addresses me. “You did great in the Breathing Dome, and you saved my life.” She averts her eyes from mine. “Thank you,” she says, almost whispering. I understand that military teens should be saving others, so when I saved her, she felt a little awkward about it.

  “You’re welcome,” I say aloud. I saved somebody, and they thanked me. This never happened to me before.

  “So, can’t the Breakfast Club help us?” Pepper asks the skaters.

  “The Breakfast Club is hard to reach,” explains Bellona. “They don’t use iAms. They have gone through the dangerous operation of removing the receptor trackers from underneath their left ears. It’s said that some of them died in the process, and they don’t trust anybody easily.”

  Everybody falls silent. It seems the Breakfast Club is not the answer to our fears at the moment.