I Am Alive

by Cameron Jace

  “But if your ranking system works just fine for you, what do you need a Ten for?” I ask.

  “Who isn’t looking for a superman?” Xitler chuckles again. “Besides, that’s none of your business.”

  “Yeah? So what is my business? Why are you here talking to me?”

  Xitler leans back in his flying throne, resting his hands on his big belly. “I am here because there is a possibility you are a Ten, Decca.”

  “Me?” I let out an exhausted sigh. Everyone thinks I am a Ten now. The Breakfast Club, Xitler, and God knows who else. “I am a barely sixteen-year-old girl who wishes she could sing. Which reminds me, I am a Seven.”

  “You are.”

  “You mean you know that I am a Seven?”

  “Actually, you’re an Eight, because your friend Ariadna, who is a Nine, had some extra points in her results, and gave them to you.”

  “Ariadna did that?”

  “Yes, she did it. But I don’t want to talk about her now. It’s beside the point. I mean that if you didn’t switch the iAm and enter the games, I would have ordered them to throw you into the games anyway. Some of the Monsters in the games are not monsters at all. Some of them are potential Tens.”

  “What?” I jump out of my place to the edge of the cave, wanting to punch him in the face, but the Zeppelin is still far from the edge. I couldn’t do it.

  Eliza clicks her fingers, summoning soldiers, but Prophet Xitler stops her again, staring admirably at me. “Let her show me what a Ten can do,” he says.

  “I am not a Ten,” I say, still clenching my fists.

  “That’s not what Dame Fortuna, the gypsy woman said,” Xitler says. “Did you forget that this is the Year of the Ten? The prophecy could be right.”

  “You design a strict nation built on the iAm’s calculations, and end up believing that old creepy woman?” I wonder.

  “It’s human nature, Decca, to look for the unknown, and the unpredictable,” Xitler replies.

  “You really confuse me with your answers. Forget about all that Year of the Ten thing. Tell me why you did this to me?”

  “Because of Woo,” says Xitler.

  I let my fist relax. Woo?

  “I know you think that Woo is alive. That he has fooled us by not answering the iAm and saying ‘I am alive.’ But he is dead. Before Carnivore killed Woo, I asked him if there was someone he thought was a Ten. He denied it. But I knew better,” says Xitler. “You might not know, Decca, but Woo was one of the few left of the Breakfast Club.”

  “The Breakfast Club?” I mumble to myself, wondering why I am so surprised. The Breakfast Club was the revolution, and Woo certainly loved that. “What do you mean by left?”

  “In their last days, the Breakfast Club lived in ships out at sea, like pirates,” Xitler explained. “I am sure your soldier friends told you that they found the containers in the Arc before me, but they had to escape when I arrived, because I had an army ten times stronger than them. We chased them out of the Wastelands, and out of Faya, out to the sea.”

  “So?” I find it strange that Xitler is telling me this. I am just a disposable girl, who could die at any moment.

  “The Breakfast Club’s priority was to find the Tens. It seems to me that it was foretold to them through information they got from the Arc that they have to find Tens, as if it’s a prophecy or something. It made sense to me too. How could you oppose the Summit, if you can’t find the Tens? And you were one of those they believed were a Ten. Woo believed you were a Ten.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Even though I know Woo did believe I was a Ten, I opposed Xitler, hearing Woo’s voice in my ears, “Tender.” “If Woo thought I was a Ten, he would have told me.”

  “Woo lied to you, Decca,” Xitler explains. “Remember when you were seven years old and the iAm predicted you to be a Bad Kid, at a time when Monsters were called Bad Kidz? Remember when your mother wanted to kill you, and your father eventually sent you to a homeless neighborhood, so he could later report you as a missing child?”

  “Vaguely, but yes,” I say reluctantly. I have a feeling that what I am about to hear will sound crazy.

  “The iAm was right. We’ve added some factors to determine if certain kids are capable of becoming Tens. Since we’ve never met a Ten, the iAm results showed us that a Ten has to be a rebel. A rebel has to be one of the four lower ranks, Four, Three, Two, and One, which makes sense. A Ten is technically a threat to the Burning Man system, if not dealt with properly. To become a threat, you have to be one of those Monsters: those kids who cause hassles, those who do whatever they please, and those who are just kids like their parents made them, unwilling to do things except in their own way. You know that everyone who has ever done something useful in the world had those characteristics when they were kids?”

  “That’s how all kids are,” I say. “It’s just you who doesn’t know that. I take it you’ve never been one. You, with your steel skeleton. What are you, Xitler? An alien? A machine? A monster?”

  “A Monster?” He laughs, which gets on my nerves. “Believe me, I wish I were. And to answer you, yes, all kids are like this. But not all kids defy the rules they’re taught, and those are the ones I look for. The Monsters who could be Tens.”

  “And how about those who were ill?”

  “It’s a system, Decca,” says Xitler. “I never said I didn’t like my system eliminating each kid who doesn’t fit into my plans. I never said I don’t like making tons of money from people loving our games worldwide. In fact, I like it a lot. All I am saying is that there is a greater possibility that the Ten is one of the Monsters. And I want the Tens. I have great use for them. I will not tell you about it, and I will not tell you what I really am. At least, not before you prove that you’re a Ten.”

  “I am listening.”

  “So back to when you were ranked a Monster at seven. Your parents were going to send you away, and your mom wanted to kill you — I am not the only evil grownup you know.” He winks. “Woo decided that you were worth saving. I should add that he might have loved you as well, but that is off the subject. So Woo gave you his Woo-Chocolates.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re not just chocolates, Decca.” Xitler bends forward. “They’re expensive biometric substances, disguised in chocolates. They manipulate your brain into following the system. It stops you from being a rebel, so you got fair results on the iAm. Woo gave them to you because he knew you loved chocolates, and those were pretty addictive. The Woo chocolates have the same taste, but they aren’t real chocolates.”

  “No way,” I say, while actually believing Xitler. I was a rebel when I was young. I remember standing by the refrigerator, and my parents debating about killing me. I remember.

  “Although Woo knew you were a potential Ten,” says Xitler, “it’s my belief that he wanted to save you because he loved you. But I could be wrong too. The Breakfast Club might have ordered him to keep you out of the games.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To keep you hidden as a Ten. Hidden from me. They must have figured out that my optimum purpose in the games is to discover a Ten.”

  I feel dizzy. Woo, did you keep me from the games because you felt for me, or did the Breakfast Club order you to? If you did it for me, should I be thankful for you deceiving me into obeying the system? Or should I be mad at you for being overprotective and interfering with what should have been my own choice? And if it’s all about this mysterious Breakfast Club that believes that I am a Ten, what is so special about me? Who am I, really? I have the right to know who I am.

  My inner talk about who I am reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. Considering all the talk about the Rabbit Hole that supposedly can get us all out of Faya, I feel pretty much like Alice. I don’t know who I am. I do know that I want to stay alive, but what then? Will I finally know why Woo did that for me?

  “You know those dreams you get of Woo training you?” Xitler asks, daring my eyes, almost slanti
ng beyond my soul.

  “How do you know about those?”

  “Those are no dreams, Decca,” says Xitler. “They were real training sessions that took place before Woo attended the Monster Show. Woo trained you to become everything a Ten would be, if they were really a Ten.”

  “What are you talking about? Those are only dreams.”

  “No dreams are so vivid. You only think they are dreams because Woo fed you the chocolate after each training session, so you forgot about them and thought they were dreams. The chocolate interacted with the receptors we plant in every newborn’s head under the ears, and prevented the iAm from detecting the training sessions. When Leo removed it in the forest, you started remembering. Bit by bit. That’s why your full potential hasn’t surfaced yet.”

  Oh my God. He is right about that. This was why I remembered how to use a bow gun when we were playing Wheel of Fortune, and why I found myself knowing how to shoot Carnivore in the Mirage if I got a chance, and how I felt funny and more confident since Leo removed the receptor. And … there are some blurry memories waving before my eyes now, like watching something in the rain. I know there is something happening, but I can’t interpret it.

  “Why do you think you have good survival skills? Why do you think you can shoot a bow gun? How did you make it so far when I changed this year’s games to blow up all that preparation of yours? It’s all coming back to you, Decca, and I want to see how far you can go.”

  Words escape me. I am silent. All I can remember is how reluctant I was after I switched my iAm with Eva’s. Looking back at it now, I should be laughing at myself. Look how far I have come. Look how far my path has changed from finding Woo, to becoming the only Monster left to win the games. Is this how I should expect the rest of my life to become? I plan one destination, and end up somewhere else?

  “Is that why I feel confused?” I ask Xitler. What a great idea! But when the angels are gone, there is no one left to talk to you but the devils. “Is this why I felt contradicting emotions all the time?” A tear is about to roll down my cheek, but I hold back. Not in front of Xitler. “Is this why I feel like my thoughts are all over the place? I mean, all this time with Leo here in the cave, I have had thoughts about pushing him over to save myself. It’s not what I want to do, but the thought crossed my mind.” I hate myself for telling this to Xitler. I make believe that I am talking to myself.

  “No,” Xitler purses his lips, seemingly irritated by my moment of weakness. I forgot he wants a superhero. They don’t cry. Do they? “The iAm didn’t cause those feelings. It’s called growing up, Decca. Something that I wish to spare the people of Faya of in the future, because it’s one of the hardest things to do.”

  It occurs to me that, no matter how creepy and evil Xitler is, there is a shadow of humanity hiding behind his metal skeleton. The last words he said evoke questions about him and his childhood.

  “However, there is still one thing that I don’t understand,” he growls. “Why did you have to switch the iAms and enter the game? Why?”

  “You know why. I thought Woo was alive, and wanted to find him,” I slam back. Is this dude a douche, or is he a douche?

  “You see. This explanation doesn’t add up, because you were still eating Woo-chocolates like I told you. One chocolate per week. Let alone that eating the chocolate for about seven years had already changed your inner system. Obeying the Summit had become a normal thing for you too. So planning to enter the games for a year, and risking your life is a very strange behavior that I can’t figure out.”

  Finally something that Xitler doesn’t know the answer to. But I know. I didn’t enter the games because I had an epiphany of how bad the Summit was, and that I had to rebel against it. Nor did Woo tell me to do it before he entered his games. Xitler is right. The moment I entered the games, I was still thinking I was a Seven, and the memories of my mom trying to kill me were only vague and unimportant. There is one other reason I had to find Woo, and I will keep that to myself. It’s personal.

  “I guess you can’t stop a Ten from doing what she has to do?” I wink, spreading my arms slightly, acting lightly so Xitler accepts it as an answer. “So tell me, Xitler,” I follow before he has a chance to think it over. Also I don’t call him Prophet Xitler to mess with him. “If Woo refused to tell you, then how do you know about me?”

  “Because we know everything,” says Xitler. “We’ve been watching him train you, and let him think he was fooling us. The iAm detects everything, even Woo’s chocolates. We waited for you to see if you were a Ten, Decca. We’ve waited for others before, but they’ve all failed us, and died in the games. We even waited for Woo, thinking he could be a Ten, but he gave in to Carnivore.” Xitler spreads his hands. “Carnivore is the ultimate test, Decca. Even Woo didn’t know how to kill it. If you can kill Carnivore, you’ll be the one.”

  “What? Why Carnivore?”

  “Because Carnivore is my fiercest weapon. The optimum of my genetically mutated creations. And because of a prophecy.”

  “Prophecy?”

  Xitler leans back in his throne. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about this. “There’s some kind of prophecy I found in the Arc containers I found under the Burning Man. It claims that whoever survives Carnivore is probably a Ten.”

  “A Ten?” I wonder. “They couldn’t have prophesized that, since they didn’t have the ranking system.”

  “Smart girl.” Xitler is impressed. “They didn’t say Ten. They said rebel. The ones who are capable of bringing down my system. I call them Tens. But don’t worry, I am not going to hurt the Tens, or I could have just killed them on sight. I have better and bigger plans for them. That’s all I can say for now.”

  “So you’re accepting my offer? That’s why you’re here?” I ask, tiptoeing on the edge.

  Xitler nods seriously. “How can I refuse, after you came up with that crazy ClairVo idea? We’ve sold about ten million glasses worldwide in the last hour. You know how much each one costs? If you weren’t a Monster, you would have been good in the marketing department in the Summit.”

  “Will you save Leo? Can you save his leg?”

  “Whatever you wish,” says Xitler. “We could buy your parents a better house too. Anything you ask for, as long as you put on the ClairVo glasses and fight Carnivore. I mean, I would dig up the presidents of the Amerikaz from their graves and tell them: ‘Look. Did you ever see anything like this with all your 3D movies and stuff? Here is the real future.’”

  “You know I can’t kill Carnivore, right?” I say, wishing I could.

  Carnivore roars from above, and Xitler chuckles.

  “Shut up!” I shout desperately.

  “He wants you, Decca,” says Xitler. “He wants you so bad. Maybe he knows you’re the one.”

  If I can save Leo, I have to stick with what I have started. What difference does it make if I die? My parents wanted to kill me when I was seven. The Summit will not pick me up if I win, and I will die eventually in this cave. If I save Leo, he will be the winner of the games, and he will stay alive. Maybe that is what being a Ten is about. If I am a Ten.

  “Okay,” I nod. “But you have to supply me with all the weapons I ask for to kill Carnivore, even if I ask for a bazooka.”

  “Others have asked for it, and it never worked. But I promise you, I’ll give you whatever you think you need to fight it,” says Xitler. “I believe you have never seen the Carnivore games.”

  “No.”

  “Not even the one with Woo?”

  “Not even that.”

  “There is nothing to see, since it’s all white over white shades. The only one who sees what’s going on is the one who plays the game. Now we have you with the ClairVo inside the battlefieldz. How didn’t any of my lazy assistants think of that before?” Xitler grins at Eliza. “Imagine this headline: ‘One hundred million viewers watching with only one girl’s pair of eyes.’ My soldiers will save Leo, while I’ll send a special Zeppelin for you. You will spend
the night in my Royal Tower, until the fight.”

  “Spend the night? I thought I’d fight Carnivore.”

  “Of course you’ll fight him, darling,” Xitler says happily. “It’s just, no one fights Carnivore at night. His powers are in fighting in the morning, so it’s all overly bright and white. This is going to be the best show in the history of television.”

  “Okay. I could use the time to rest,” I say.

  “Remember one more thing when you’re down there in the Monsterium fighting Carnivore.” Xitler leans forward again, closer to me. I feel like I am going to vomit. “They say whoever gets to see Carnivore in the game with his own eyes never lives to tell about it.”

  “Yeah.” I pout at him and Eliza. “How about I teach you something? Especially Eliza.”

  “Huh. Me?” she utters, pretending to be checking her nails.

  “Yes. You. Remember when you told me every girl dies?”

  “You’ve got such a black heart.” She raises her thin eyebrows and Xitler chuckles. “Yes. I remember. What about it? It’s true. Every girl dies.”

  “Wrong,” I object. “You only got half of the sentence right.” Woo has taught me the full phrase. “Every girl dies. But not every girl really lives.”

  44

  The servant girls in the Royal Tower want to get rid of Honeybee. I tell them to buzz off and leave the poor bee alone.

  Yes. I brought Honeybee along with me. I need a friend to accompany me, if I am going to spend the night in here. If the world comes down to this, that my last friend on earth is a bee, so “bee” it, and just let it “bee.”

  The servant girls are all giggly at how dirty and blood-spattered my body is. Blood seems to make girls giggle these days. Like cybernetic Geishas, they point at my messed-up hair and laugh at each other. I look in the fancy, curvy mirror in this fancy, white-motif royal room and laugh too. My hair — or should I say, what’s left of it — is all dust, mud, blood, and mostly scraped out. I lost bits and pieces of it in every game I played, especially the last one when Carnivore slashed at it, and ripped some of it away.