by Cameron Jace
There are buildings that look like shopping malls in front of us. Entrances are locked, and windows are blackened. I wonder if there is someone inside, watching us.
We can see the Monorail in front of the buildings, arriving from beyond the Breathing Dome on the right. It’s orange in color with black, red, and yellow waves painted on it, drawn like horizontal flames. It draws to a halt. Where is the station to get on? The station should have some kind of an elevator to lift us up to it.
We keep on walking, watching ourselves on the screen, which adds to the scare. I feel as if we’re the last eleven sixteen-year-olds left on earth, like Vern said.
“Face your fear,” says Bellona, addressing the ten of us. “Don’t focus on escaping it. Look it in the eye. Take a deep breath. Count down from five. That’s how long you allow it to take hold of you. Then release. Breathe out. Free yourself from it, and override it.”
Even though her words sound clichéd, they work just fine.
The cameras stop televising. We can’t see ourselves in the screens any more. We are locked out, and my heart sinks deeper. Are they doing this to scare us? Well, it works.
I count.
Five.
I feel like I’m being watched, but I don’t know by whom or from where.
Four.
I don’t think I can survive this.
Three.
I feel abandoned, away from home.
Two.
A stranger in a strange land.
One.
I am afraid one test, one judgment, one action, or one choice will shape the rest of my life. I think this is what they call growing up.
I breathe out.
It’s working. Now that I have filled my mind with my fears, I remind myself that I am alive. I am here. I have survived so far, and there’s no point in letting the fear take hold of me. My mind is clear.
“Here it is.” I point at an elevator. Bellona is right behind me. Pepper must have slowed down or bailed on leading the way. I find myself the first in line.
We take the elevator up and arrive at a metal ledge about five stories high, leading to the Monorail’s door. It opens automatically.
We get in.
The Monorail’s electric double doors slide closed behind us. The ride is on. The train takes a slight bend upward and accelerates. The Monorail works on its own. No one is driving. Spooky.
Dizny Battlefieldz looks safer from this high up. I can’t imagine how vast it is. I’m unable to see the real world from here. It is so huge. I see a cowboy-themed neighborhood, which looks like a Western movie set. Last year, I saw The Nine, the Five, and the Monster, a classic movie in Faya, and the last movie ever made before they had stopped making them. This is the kind of neighborhood they would shoot such movies in.
Right after the second curve in the rail, we see a vast desert, never-ending white sands that turn into canyons after a while.
The sunrays fall into the Monorail and onto our faces. I remind myself that it’s a beautiful day. Stay positive.
The Monorail stops over what looks like an artificial lake. The doors open and Leo gets anxious. Although the game itself hasn’t begun yet, we are prepared for anything.
Nothing happens. The doors close again. A female voice announces the next station: CARNIVORE.
My heart pounds again. This is where the last game will take place, if we ever survive.
“As if we will make it this far.” Pepper’s pessimistic voice is troubling.
The Monorail doesn’t stop at Carnivore, but we can see it from above. It’s scary. It’s a huge colosseum, a large theatre for open-air sports and entertainment. It’s oval and has tiers of seats rising from the central open arena where the deadly games are held. The Summit calls it the Monsterium. What’s crazy about the Monsterium is that it’s covered in white sand. All of it. The arena is like a huge waving carpet of white sands and dunes. The seats and the structures are all white. There’s no way a contestant can hide in it, unless he is as white as the sands. The rule of the game is that they send the contestant wearing red into the fields, while somewhere, hidden beyond all of that white, awaits Carnivore, a white tiger with one eye. How can you ever survive that?
This is where Woo fooled everyone, letting them think he was killed by the paws of Carnivore. Maybe Woo didn’t fool anyone. Maybe he died, and I am only chasing my shadow.
Carnivore. Where are you hiding? I wonder, staring into the white.
The female voice announces the next station: the Rabbit Hole.
I exchange alarmed gazes with Leo and Bellona. It’s a weird coincidence. It doesn’t seem right. It could not have been that Timmy overheard us yesterday.
But of course, I remind myself that we have a traitor among us. It might be that Timmy doesn’t know what the Rabbit Hole is — or where it is. He just got the name from the traitor. He is only fooling with us so we turn against each other.
Who is the traitor among us? There is no time to waste on that right now.
The Monorail speeds up, then it stops, almost ten stories above the ground. I don’t feel like looking down now.
In front of us, we see a dark tunnel that looks like a huge hole in the air.
And…
We are back to life. Connected. Screens, iAms, and Timmy’s voice are back online.
“Welcome back, Monsters,” says Timmy, now dressed casually, sitting on a couch, playing a video game, pushing buttons with his hands. “Or should I say, welcome back, Timmy.” He points at himself. The audience applauds. What did he tell them while we were offline? “Hey, Roger This. I beat your top score.” Timmy presses a button on his joystick, making fun of Vern, letting us know that he overheard every word yesterday.
Two million and seven hundred thousand viewers are watching.
“I just had a little chat with the audience. Believe me. This is going to be fuuuuuuuuun.” He leans back in the couch, his legs pedaling in the air.
SPONSORED BY ZNEABOCK SNEAKERS is written on the screen, which is the brand of the sneakers Timmy is showing off with.
Timmy is holding his gaming device in his hand. He looks sharply into the screen, at us, his thumb caressing a button. “Welcum to ze Rabit Hawl.” He imitates a German accent. “Isn’t zis wut you arre looking vor?”
Leo is making a strange low noise, like an engine about to explode, holding tight to the metal edge of his seat. I think Leo’s ancestors might be German or something. He looks offended.
“Traitor,” Leo grunts.
There is no time to deal with that. Someone sold us out to Timmy. Why? For what price? Is it Orin? Vern? The skater boy? Is it Pepper?
It could not be Bellona, or could it?
“I had a little conversation with one of you yesterday while you were asleep.” Timmy is talking straight to us. “We made a deal. He or she told me about your conversation, and I gave them something back in return.”
“Who is it?” demands Pepper. It’s not like her, with her negative attitude, to be curious.
“Later, Monsters,” says Timmy. “Now I welcome you to the Rabbit Hole. Not the one you’re looking for, but the one I made for you. Hold on tight. Once you finish the ride into the Rabbit Hole and reach the other side, the game instructions will be given in real-time while you are playing.”
“This can’t be,” Bellona protests. “You are supposed to tell us the rules of the game before we start playing. This is unfair.”
“Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda,” says Timmy. “Stop whining. Here is my first hint: It is all about choices. The faster you reach a decision, the longer you stay alive. And the word to keep in mind is: ADAPT.”
“Five,” Leo says aloud.
“Four,” Bellona follows.
“Haha.” Timmy rubs his chin. “Take in the fear. You Monsters and your mind games.”
“Three,” I say, holding tighter to my seat.
“Two,” one of the skaters joins in.
“Push the damn button,” Pepper screams at Timmy. I g
uess that is her way of saying, “One.”
The Monorail speeds into the tunnel. My heart is plastered to the back of my seat. My spine hurts. The flesh in the back of my neck is burning. If I ever wanted to say stop, the muscles in my jaw wouldn’t allow me to open my mouth. My face is crumbling like a paper-bag in front of a vacuum cleaner. I hold on tight.
First, the journey into the dark tunnel goes up, and then the monorail leans to the left, then down, gaining speed.
Down. Down. Down.
Like riding a rollercoaster all the way down, afraid it won’t stop and will drive into the earth instead.
Finally, it slows down in the dark and maintains the speed for a while, like a train drawing into the station. I see tiny dots of light at the end of the tunnel, like small light bulbs, shimmering in the distance. They get bigger as we come closer. The sun starts shining through.
We get out of the tunnel and the Monorail stops under the sunny spot. It feels like we have entered an alternate reality.
One door opens to the left. We hurry to it as if this crazy Monorail is about to explode.
Above us, the sunny sky is a little different, as if missing its heart and soul. It looks as if it’s not real.
“I present to you, Artificial Sky,” says Timmy. “The latest invention, exclusively designed for Faya, on the other side of the Rabbit Hole.”
Beyond the door, there is a metal ledge in front of us with star-shaped holes drilled in it. I can see the endless air underneath us, leading to oblivion. It’s hard to tell how high we are. I am afraid we are so high we can’t see the ground through the holes.
“Please walk forward,” a female voice says from the microphones.
Leo starts walking in front of us. I cut in, wanting to be the first.
“Not this time, sweetie,” Timmy interrupts. “In fact, you will be the last in line.”
“No. She walks next to me,” says Leo, holding my hand.
“Oh. So the cat didn’t eat your tongue like I was told,” says Timmy. The crowd laughs and starts hissing.
The crowd favors Leo. Is it because he is a Nine? Or because he is just tediously hot – and dumb sometimes?
“Not this time, Zambo,” says Timmy. Zambo is a famous character from an old movie where Zambo is outrageously brave, and rebels against the Bad Kidz. “I promise you, in the presence of over two million viewers, nothing is going to happen to her walking last in line.”
Reluctantly, Leo lets go of my hand and keeps walking.
“Stop,” says Timmy.
Leo stops in front of a huge vertical circle made of iron. I can’t see what it is exactly but it looks like a ring-shaped hole, surrounded by an iron structure.
Farther, beyond the circle, there is another metal ledge leading to a huge round clock made of wood. It looks rusty and old with all kinds of swampy plants covering it. The clock is numbered from one to ten.
An old woman in a red cloak stands before the huge clock. Her long silver hair shows from under the veil, fluttering in the light wind passing through. She is using a wooden cane to help her walk as she arches her back forward. Her eyes have a silver shade to them. When I look closer, I discover that she is blind.
“Please say hi to Dame Fortuna,” says Timmy. No one says anything. “It’s true that Dame Fortuna is blind but she is the goddess of fate,” Timmy laughs happily. “And fate needs to be on the Monsters’ side today.”
“That’s the gypsy woman who foresaw the Year of the Ten,” Pepper says.
“So?” I ask.
“So she is a liar,” Pepper says. “Can’t you see? We’ve all been already ranked and there is no Ten this year. All this Year of the Ten thing was a lie. God knows what this creepy woman has in store for us now.”
“Please step carefully into the circle, and take your seats,” Timmy says to us. “What you see there, and what looks like a clock, is a Wheel of Fortune, although it rarely makes one fortunate.” Timmy smirks at the camera. “The horizontal metal ring in front of you has seats attached to its edges, circling around the huge void in the middle. Take your seats in the ring. You’ll find a blue box in front of you. Lay your palm flat on it and Dame Fortuna will rotate the wheel. When the wheel finally stops, it will show your number.”
“Why are they giving us numbers?” I ask.
“It’s better we give you numbers than you give them to yourself,” Timmy responds bluntly.
Leo takes a step down into the ring, and we follow.
The ring itself has a metal floor, wide enough to walk upon without panicking about falling into the hole in the middle. I can’t see the bottom of the hole. It is infinitely deep. When I squint, trying to look harder, I see only fog and smoke. What is this place?
I see the metallic seats attached to the ring. Haphazardly, we pick seats.
Every seat is the shape of a vertical cylinder. It’s like a barrel. I stand in it, waist deep. It barely fits one person, and it’s like my own private balcony, allowing me to look over at the others sitting in similar balconies attached to a ring.
Everyone takes a place. We are all standing in a circle so we can see each other. Tight metallic belts buckle around our waists and shoulders. None of us can leave the balcony now.
On the right, I see the box Timmy told us about. It has a blue substance inside that looks like jelly. This is where we are going to place our palms so the Wheel of Fortune rolls and gives us a number.
“What are the numbers for?” asks Pepper again, as if I haven’t already asked.
“I will explain later,” says Timmy. “After each one of you places their palms on the blue jelly.”
“So cool,” says Vern. I am glad that’s all he says. He can be distracting at times.
I am dying to know what happened between Timmy and the audience when we were offline. It’s starting to bother me.
“The only problem is that there are eleven of you, and only ten numbers on the wheel,” says Timmy. “The audience has the right to spare one of you from this part of today’s game.”
This hasn’t happened before. The audience’s vote has never been taken into consideration.
The screen shows the votes. With the iAm, you can get results within seconds. The screen shows that the crowd has favored Leo.
“Zambo, the crowd’s favorite, will be spared,” says Timmy. “So let’s play. Let’s start with Pepper.”
I have a bad feeling about this numbering thing. Leo looks puzzled. We all do. What kind of crazy game is this? How much does this setting cost?
Pepper places her palm on the blue jelly. She doesn’t hesitate a bit. Sometimes I forget that she has a death wish. Dame Fortuna gives the wheel a slight push.
I could have imagined anything when Dame Fortuna pushes the wheel like the blonde host you see in lottery shows.
Anything.
All but what I am actually seeing.
How do they do something like that?
I can’t believe my eyes.
When the wheel turns, the seasons change.
Chapter 19
Wheel of Fortune
“Boys and girls.” Timmy jumps up and down on his couch. “May I present to you Artificial Sky and the Wheel of Fortune.”
The cameras show Prophet Xitler in his Royal Tower, with Eliza Day and a bunch of senators next to him, clapping hands enthusiastically.
“I have experienced Instant-CGI,” continues Timmy. “I heard about weekends on the moon. I have seen the most breathtaking visual effects. But this?” He keeps jumping. “This is what you have never ever dreamed of. Artificial Skyyyyy.”
Every time the Wheel of Fortune rolls, seasons change. I mean it.
Dame Fortuna pushes the wheel for the first time.
The first change is from the sunny morning to autumn.
Brown leaves start falling upon us from the artificial sky, spiraling around us in circles. Cold and windy weather sends chills up my spine. I can smell the distinct crispness in the air. Trees grow out of the circular
hole through the middle, like Jack Beanstalk’s famous tree, growing out of nowhere without soil or land, out of air. The leaves are yellow, orange, and red.
I am standing open-mouthed, unable to express my excitement.
The wheel keeps turning. Dame Fortuna gives it another nudge, and the wooden fortune wheel starts to creak its way to the second season…
It’s winter. Nighttime. Freezing cold. My nose is kissed by a slight touch of frost. White snow falls from the sky, lighting up the darkness. Naked trees, frosted leaves, and the snowflakes look like falling stars glittering in the artificial night. My cheeks hurt from the cold. I look at the camera and I see they are rosy. Vern sneezes.
“I can’t believe this,” Orin screams in disgust. “Rabbit hole my—” I can’t hear the rest because of the whirling wind.
“Again!” yells Pepper, sounding euphoric. “Give me spring. I love spring.” I wonder if Pepper has ever thrown snowballs at her friends in winter, chased butterflies in spring, or tanned at the beach in summer. “If this wheel rotates one hundred times, I am going to be a hundred years old, like no one in my family ever got to be.” Pepper spreads her hands in the air. Her stiffly curled hair circles around her, making her look like a witch.
The Wheel of Fortune turns one more time.
It’s spring: warm sunrise, flowers blooming out of the hole. Fresh air, clear sky. Birds are singing around us. There are butterflies fluttering next to pink roses at the edges of the ring.
The camera shows Prophet Xitler clapping. I wonder if it is the same weather wherever he is. I see it’s still summer where he watches the game from. This is only happening here, beyond the rabbit hole.
In one minute, we have experienced three seasons, and now we are back to summer.
The wheel stops, and its cursor settles on a number.
The cursor on the wheel of fortune stops at number three.