by Ryan Tang
The advertisement for the simulator tournament popped in after every article. Stock's "Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's have some fun!" began echoing endlessly in his ears.
A few articles praised him, but they were buried in the deluge of content written by Stock's three favorites. They'd produced more than 50 pieces in just two weeks.
Munch, a self-proclaimed expert on Old Earth legends who Jared never saw at Alex's reading sessions, claimed that Director Stock was Ray come again. Meanwhile, the Hands Paragon was just a trifling distraction. Munch wouldn't be surprised to learn if there were Hands Paragon analogs back in the day, but there was no way to know – they simply hadn't made it into the history books.
Anders ostensibly praised him, but it was obviously backhanded.
TO EACH THEIR PLACE: Director Stock is the one leading our colony through this troubled time. It might be a good thing that lesser men have taken it upon themselves to do chores like rebuilding homes.
Jared sighed.
His father winced.
"You can see where this is going. I'm concerned that if this goes on, he won't let you fight in the tournament. After all, why would he honor someone who stole attention away from his accomplishments?"
Jared wanted to smash his head against the control panel.
He'd been fired from Southern Robotics, but he still had to stay political.
"Look. The good thing is that you got a lot of piloting practice."
Jared tried to laugh, but couldn't.
"You should go home and train. That's what everyone else is doing. I had dinner with George last night. He said that even though Duncan's been sleeping at headquarters every day, they brought pods in so that people could train once they're done working. It's good stuff, really. Free food, letting them stay there, and letting them train whenever they want. I saw parts of the new contract he signed. It's a shame we got fired."
The awkward laughter continued. His dad didn't like this any more than he did. That was a comfort. If his father actually thought holding a tournament was a good idea, Jared wouldn't know what to say.
"How's Alex doing, by the way?"
Even his dad knew she was the key to their tournament success.
Jared shrugged.
"Fine."
He didn't know how Alex was feeling.
How happy could she be? Her house was destroyed.
"I'll go visit her tomorrow."
He thought about messaging her, but she was probably sleeping. It was very late at night. He would have gone to sleep a long time ago if his dad hadn't visited him.
"Do you mind giving me a ride home? I'm too tired to pilot."
When he woke up the next day, the sky was screaming at him.
____
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's have some fun!"
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's have some fun!"
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's have some fun!"
Countless copies of Stock's face shone down from the false sky, alternating panels with his handwritten note from the advertisements.
"A fun distraction is what we all need! Don't forget to attend Plenty's Paragon simulator tournament. Due to the urgency of the quakes, we've decided to move up the simulator tournament! In just a few days, witness the most exciting event in Plenty's history! Massive prizes! A secret humanity transforming revelation! Everyone simply must attend!"
Jared stared up and gaped. The familiar sunny scene that'd shone down on Plenty his whole life was gone.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's have some fun!"
Jared shook his head and went to the hangar.
He already knew what his dad would say. Southern Robotics managed the false sky, so they could put whatever they wanted on it.
He left the Peacetime model where it was.
He stayed political and took a Southern Robotics machine, a white and gold model that'd been colored to resemble the Director's private Paragon.
The "hey, hey, heys" rained down in an endless loop as the painfully slow machine dribbled across the sky.
It didn't take long for Jared's ears to start ringing.
The road beneath him was noticeably less busy than usual. The missing people had probably signed with Southern Robotics. If you didn't have a home, the firm's generous offer of free room and board was incredibly attractive.
Jared sighed.
Alex wouldn't understand why the tournament was still happening.
Her students wouldn't understand either. Alice and her friend hadn't seen their parents in weeks. If they found out it was to prepare a simulator tournament, they'd be furious.
Only someone who'd spent a lifetime working at Southern Robotics would understand.
Stock's caprice and fortune had the power to captivate entire colonies, forcing them all to play the game of his choosing.
Jared shook his head in irritation.
He'd already talked about it with his dad.
He just had to change his frame of thinking.
It's not like anything had changed because of the quakes. His team was still a strong contender. He was still planning on using the money to produce the Peacetime model.
He'd simply been surprised the tournament was still happening.
He should have remembered. Stock left a message to all Southern Robotics engineers the night of the quakes, telling them to train hard for the simulator tournament. It was Jared's fault for forgetting in the chaos.
Once he got over his surprise, he'd be excited again. The prize money was his chance to rebuild the homes.
He just had to make sure he wouldn't get kicked out of the tournament.
This was just a detour, a detour with no real consequences and the possibility of an outrageous sum of money.
His dad was right.
This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The young engineer landed outside the Spire and tried to put a smile on his face as he walked towards the library doors.
As soon as he entered, he saw the strange campsite on the eighth-floor. They'd set up a loose row of beds, pillows, and blankets. There were even some tents. Kids giggled happily, rolling around on their backs with books in their hands.
Maybe Alex was staying there with them.
Jared bit his lip.
What was the best way to explain this to her?
"You!"
A young girl's voice yanked him out of his thoughts. Her wide eyes were filled with tears as she gaped at the hunched machine outside.
"You! Why didn't you help her! Why didn't you help my mom! You helped all these people, but you didn't help my mom! I posted first! I was the first on the Forums! Block 7! Emergency! I waited there for hours! Why couldn't you save my mom!"
It was like she'd run him through with an icicle.
The flashing message had been a blur; he only knew what she said because Alex read it out to him. He'd sprinted for his Paragon. He was going to save her mom.
But then he saw Block 6. He saw the fires. He smelled the smoke. He heard the wails.
"Five hours! I waited for five hours!"
He mumbled an apology through dead lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."
He thought about the boy who'd fainted when they found his cooked mom.
He thought of the man sobbing outside the hospital, screaming for his mom to breathe again.
He thought about the shot-up machine, the one that was covered with bullet holes. The pilot had been a Paragon thief, but he was helping people from Block 8.
The girl ran away, still crying her eyes out.
"Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry."
Jared continued stumbling forward, his feet walking with a mind of their own.
What was he doing here?
Jared took another look at the makeshift campsite.
How could he ask Alex to play in the simulator tournament?
"Sorry. Sorry."
She couldn't even hear him anymore.
Mrs. T called out when she saw him.
"Hi. Are you looking f
or Alex?"
"Yeah."
He was looking for her, but not to play in the simulator tournament.
"Alright. She's very busy right now, but I'll see if she's available."
Jared sighed and sent an apology to his father.
Inside the cockpit of his Paragon, it'd been easy to pretend. But the truth was that this couldn't wait.
"She's ready to see you."
The black wall beside him flashed the purest shade of blue he'd ever seen. Alex was always going on and on about the different kinds of blue. She could name every hue on her mosaic machine.
The light blazed right in his face. It was the color of the sea at storm. He'd seen it in movies before, a raging dark blue that was almost black.
The shelf transformed into a tunnel.
Alex stepped out, a cocky grin plastered to her face.
It was the same grin she had whenever they won a game because she hit an impossible shot.
Her smile dissolved into a wince as soon as she stepped outside.
"What the hell is that noise?"
She pointed up at the ceiling.
"What the fuck is going on out there?"
She must not have seen the advertisements yet.
"I need your help writing something. And then I was wondering if you could film it after and put it on the Forums."
There was nothing Stock hated more than bad press. His only hope was to shame the Director into doing what had to be done.
Jared stared at the beds on the upper floor.
He thought of smoke and fire and screaming and the smell of cooking meat.
There was another way to be political.
____
He clutched the speech Alex helped write as tight as he could. The other librarians had helped too. Jared knew he wouldn't forget the words, but the piece of paper was like a talisman. Whenever he started worrying about what he was going to say, he squeezed it tighter.
Jared forced himself to smile as he stood by his retrieved machine. He'd parked it in the most heroic pose he could think of, one massive hand pointed high into the air. It was still ugly, but anyone who he'd helped before would feel inspired.
His heart thumped over and over, beating so loudly the sound cut through the middle of Heys raining down from above.
Hey! – thump – Hey! – thump – Hey! – thump
He squeezed the sheet even tighter. The sweat on his palms had ruined the words, but that wasn't a problem.
He wouldn't forget them.
His whole life had been built around keeping Director Stock happy. It seemed foolish now, knowing what it'd naturally led to.
"Good evening, Plenty. I'm the pilot of the Hands Paragon. Everyone says that the Paragons have the strength of a thousand people, but there's only so much one machine can do. I've spent all week rebuilding the homes on Block 7. Even then, I only got through a bit over a quarter of them. I'm not strong enough. I need more help. These people need more help."
The librarians held their tablets high, broadcasting his words to the Forums.
He took a deep breath, and then made the plunge.
"Right now, Southern Robotics is planning a Paragon simulator tournament. The prize for winning will be half a year's worth in sun fees – millions of millions of dollars. We've all heard that Southern Robotics is doing everything in its power to investigate the quakes. Your family members are forced to work around the clock. I've even been told that fixing homes is a complete waste of time. Everything must be devoted to the quakes. But what about this event? Why is that prize money just lying around? Why is all the money going to simulator pods? It should go to rebuilding more homes! We have people sleeping on the streets! We have kids camping out in the library!"
A crowd began to gather.
"That's right. The simulator tournament is a scam!"
"What the hell is up with this stupid ad? He doesn't have to shout for us to notice. How wouldn't we notice? He took the sky away!"
"This is such a stupid waste of time and money! Help fix the homes!"
"What an ugly haircut! We should build new homes instead of paying for that ugly-ass haircut!"
The angry cries and snide comments jolted his ears and heightened his fear. Something – not his heart or his mind, but maybe his throat – was screaming at him to be political.
He gestured, and the others walked forwards.
The children who'd been forced to live inside the Spire. People who he'd worked with on Block 7, from the adults who stayed behind to Alice and her friend.
Their stories were far more important than his words could ever be.
"I met a lot of new people since the night of the quakes. I wanted to share their stories."
That was the real problem.
That was why Duncan was ignoring him.
That was why his dad thought it was possible to focus on the simulator tournament.
They didn't know what was going on.
They couldn't see it with their own eyes.
All they read were the stupid articles by the sponsored writers.
They'd decided on having Alice's friend Laura, the girl with short hair, speak first. She was very well-spoken, and her criticism would attract sympathy throughout the colony. Nobody could be happy with forcing an 8-year-old to work just so she could have a roof to sleep under. It was absurd.
A high-pitched shriek cut her off before she could even begin.
"Shut up! Shut up!"
The crowd turned and stared at the sky.
"What the hell?"
"Look! Look!"
"Holy shit! Look at the sky!"
The advertisements were gone.
Pitch black letters stared down at them.
"A MESSAGE FROM THE COUNCIL OF SCHOLARS – Sponsored by Southern Robotics!"
CHAPTER 19: TEACHER
The crowd cheered as Jared called for Laura to take the stage.
Alex smiled.
She was able to help, even if it was only a little bit.
The advertisements were ridiculous, and the tournament itself was even worse. People were sleeping in the Spire, and Southern Robotics thought hosting a tournament was more important than rebuilding homes?
The librarian turned back to the shelves.
Jared would tell her how everything went when it was over.
She wanted to be gone by the time everyone returned.
She wasn't ready to face her students yet.
Alex closed her eyes and concentrated, forming her thoughts into a single mental spear.
"I want to explore the book-corridors. I want to discover books that can help us."
"I want to explore the book-corridors. I want to discover books that can help us."
"I want to explore the book-corridors. I want to discover books that can help us."
She imagined herself climbing up the shelves and leafing through the pages. She envisioned a book about the Disasters, a book that wasn't drenched in black ink. She saw her parent's hand-drawn copy of The Familiars lying on the black floor, waiting for her to retrieve it.
A pure mind.
That was how she opened the tunnels the first time she saw Mrs. T. That time, her mind had been filled with nothing but surprise.
The forever black metal turned the color of dew on grass – more of a white than a blue, but still one of the colors of water, still one of the colors of her soul.
She felt her thought pierce the Eternium. It was a pleasant nudge at the top of her mind. Then she took a deep breath and let the mental image diffuse. The blue spread across the metal like spilled water poured across a table.
The metal morphed. A tunnel appeared before her.
Then a strangely familiar voice echoed down from the sky, a sound that filled her heart with terror.
A cold sweat abruptly burst out on Alex's forehead.
The high-pitched screech echoed malevolently against the Eternium.
The eerily familiar sound was so terrifying she almost sprinted int
o the tunnels.
But then she heard what the voice was saying and stopped.
"It's complete nonsense! Nonsense! Do you hate fun? Do you hate success? Do you hate the Paragons? This freak with his hunched over fake Paragon dares to criticize Director Stock just for trying to have a little fun! The beautiful Director is doing everything in his power to solve the quakes right now. He knows that with motivation at an all-time low, humanity needs a little reminder of what greatness lies in the future! The simulator tournament is the perfect opportunity for that! It's an opportunity to show everyone the glorious Paragons that await us! How dare he criticize a man who has done nothing but good for us?"
Alex climbed up the stairs and peered out of a crooked window.
The sky had transformed once again.
Four men sat on top of a strangely layered construction that looked like an altar. The gleaming black Eternium was smothered with carvings of animals from Old Earth's sea.
Alex looked at the jellyfish on her arm and shuddered. Normally, she loved sea animals, but the art scrawled on the stage exaggerated to emphasize the animals' strangeness. They were all fins, spines, shells, and gaping eyes. They looked like aliens.
The altar was divided into three sections linked by a twisting spiral staircase. The middle stage was the tallest - nearly fifteen feet high. The empty throne at the top loomed over the four men sitting to either side.
Nobody could've gathered enough Eternium to forge a podium like that from scratch. Southern Robotics must have found lying around somewhere. It looked just like a relic of the Mad Nobles.
The dignified gentleman man at the bottom gesticulated angrily. He was dressed in a white shirt, dark blue tie, and a sharp pair of horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was cut very short, granting him a vaguely martial appearance.
A graphic popped up beneath his scowling face.
"Roy Munch – Expert on Old Earth Legends"
Alex frowned.
She had no idea who he was.
She'd never seen him before at her readings, not even once.
"As you know, Director Stock is Captain Ray come again. We should be calling him Captain Stock, if I'm being honest here. This simulator tournament should've been the perfect example of his generosity and ability to bring people together! Captain Ray was a man who united humanity! He brought everyone together! That's what Captain Stock's simulator tournament is for! A grand event anyone can join. To try and sabotage that..."