Loaded Save

Pix, Phaedra, and the other fighters return to the concrete, red-trimmed, Tier One holding cells. Phaedra joins Pix in his cell as sunset crosses the two round windows. From the tall multiplex she looks down to the slowing traffic below. Publica keeps quite busy with only food, electronics, and managing the Tournament.

PIX: How does patching work?

Phaedra stays at the window, her purple-orange satin robes shining in the light. Pix’s pure white skin and white toga match the white cot. His large hockey-puck eyes stare at nothing in particular on the floor.

PHAEDRA: It depends. I can read your Instruction Set Architecture, I assume you’re under an X86 framework, not mobile. With clean code I can work with complex, reduced, or parallel instructions. May I take your hands?

Phaedra leaves the window to stand directly in front of Pix, then rolls up her hanging sleeves. Pix gives his hands to Phaedra. Her eyes calmly roll back, exposing the whites. He feels one cable enter each wrist. They work their way deeper into his forearms, but hit a stopper. Phaedra drops her eyes back down.

PHAEDRA: What’s wrong beloved?

PIX: I... do not know.

Phaedra’s eyes white again as she pushes, but the stop is firm.

PIX: Ouch.

PHAEDRA: How severe is that pain?

PIX: Sixty... four... percent...

PHAEDRA: Shall I try to break through?

He looks up, vulnerable to the towering seven-foot older program.

PIX (straining): Is it worth it?

PHAEDRA: It could be destructive... I’m not sure, beloved.

PIX: Stop.

Phaedra’s eyes roll down. She delicately removes the cables, then drops Pix’s hands. He stays on the bed, winded. She remains in the middle of the room, looking down at him.

PHAEDRA: Sorry, are you okay?

He looks at the floor.

PIX: Yes. What was that supposed to accomplish?

PHAEDRA (sighing): Normally, programs don’t reject those nodes. Your core has some kind of encrypted partition.

PIX: Then I suppose I will remain socially awkward.

PHAEDRA (chuckles): Right, I suppose. I’m going to rest.

Pix nods and Phaedra returns to her cell. They pick up their tablets to sign up for the conference. Phaedra places the tablet beside her bed, then meditates, sorting out what to say to Publica.

Brick wakes up with a throbbing core-ache. On its charging dock, his tablet reads 6:47. He gets out of his king-sized bed then stretches, squats, pushes and pulls in the fitness corner. He unplugs the tablet to check conference requests - unsure why he expected anyone other than Pix or Phaedra to show up. He swipes away the requests to confirm, then showers for 8:00 showtime. He hopes the steam will relieve his core-ache, but the past seven Tournaments have taken a toll.

As the hot water traces seven weeks of scar tissue on his behemoth frame, Brick tries to appreciate the gray concrete corners: hygiene, food, exercise, sleep. He looks past the foggy glass toward the wall of black-and-white Champion photos. The coaster-sized cards number about twenty per year, dating back hundreds of years.

He wished human time wasn’t so slow. Even if his last message was received, it was going to be a few human minutes before they’d do anything - and how long would they work on the problem? Minutes? Hours? If a human minute is a Publican week - it’s hard to imagine hundreds, possibly thousands more battles before any change.

Jada wakes again in her hot, dark red cell, this time in boxers and a tank top - her gray tracksuit better as a small (smelly) pillow. She stretches and looks for a clock. At the opposite end of the tower, the bejeweled, kente-cloth-wearing female program with black skin sits cross-legged in her cell, deep in thought. Jada puts on her clothes and sneakers, and calls across.

JADA: Hey, cool outfit!

The program stands up and grabs a thick double-pointed spear, her jet black features highlighted yellow by the energy wall of the cell. As she pats dust off her yellow-red clothes, the other Hostiles in Tier Two groan and rustle awake. She responds:

???: Thank you! I am Carmen, who are you?

JADA: Jada!

Almost on cue, the sliding door three hundred feet down reopens, welcoming seven paratanks and the blue-clad officer from yesterday morning. Jada calls across the thirty foot diameter of the tower:

JADA: What’re you in for!?

CARMEN: Killed a cop!

The officer gets on the intercom:

OFFICER (still bored): Morning Tier Two. It’s 7:58, we’re gonna hear from Brick and yesterday’s fighters in about two minutes. Watch your in-tube for a breakfast smoothie.

The paratanks fly and disperse to the seven floors of the tower.

JADA: Feel like killing that cop?

CARMEN: I actually need to talk to Pix!

JADA: Oh, the freaky white guy that ate a bunch of programs yesterday?

CARMEN: Yeah, he is my cousin!

JADA: Your what!?

The paratanks flutter, then stabilize and display the news broadcast to the hundreds of cells in the tower. On screen, the classic view of Brick’s sleek office, plus a small picture-in-picture of the Golden Hall. Though the paratank obstructs her view of Jada, Carmen calls across:

CARMEN: Yes! Our coders are siblings!

Jada takes this in. The black speaker in her cell crackles to life:

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN): In just a few moments, Brick will explain the dramatic change in scheduling...

JADA: You... know your coders?

CARMEN: The Smiths are very bright - they sent us to figure out why Publica was created!

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN): Here he is now!

Brick dominates the screen in his near-black unitard and spiked leather bracelets. The camera zooms out to show his ultra-heavyweight stature.

BRICK (ON SCREEN): Morning Publica. Last night I announced that Tier Three is moving up alongside Tier Two. I made this decision to punish Phaedra and Pix. Before they speak, let me be clear. I’m not your friend. I’m your leader. Without our sorting policies, police force, the Arena; you wouldn’t just be bored. You’d be dead. Every Publican is worthwhile - but to have anything close to a life, you need the Tournament. Without it, we’d be overrun by Hostiles, and our city would collapse. With this in mind, Peacefuls, Hostiles: here’s Phaedra and Pix.

In the Golden Hall, Pix and Phaedra stand at a podium in front of bright lights, a three-program media crew, a camera, and two mounted tablets. One tablet reflects a glass teleprompter, the other shows the Publican news broadcast. A large rodent-type wearing a headset holds his hand up, then nods and points to Phaedra. She smiles, her face lined wisdom, and her deep voice commands the room:

PHAEDRA: Hello beloved, I’m glad to finally meet you. You may have noticed yesterday, my followers and I made a gesture to identify each other. The gesture is similar to human prayer. One, both, or all of your hands flat together, fingers pointed up.

Phaedra demonstrates, then moves her hands freely as she continues.

PHAEDRA: Over time, I’ve asked a lot of my followers, and have lost many, as recently as yesterday. A hundred years ago I began sharing my vision for escape to programs across the domain. Hostile violence and tragic suicide rates kept our movement slow. Our goal is simple, we believe in patching programs so they can explore the Internet. If thirty percent were aware of us, I might survive Tier One to tell you: Your alignment is arbitrary. With the support of Publican leadership, we can leave. Now, Brick has asked us to continue through the Tournament, but I’m confident we’ll speak to you again. If you are curious about leaving Publica - you’re not alone.

Phaedra presses her hands together and steps out of view. The room goes quiet. On the monitor, the news anchor continues.

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN): Next is Pix, a program that deleted over four hundred Hostiles yesterday, even more than Brick’s first match!

The mouse-type points to Pix, he steps up to the podium.

PIX: Hello Publica. I am Pix. I must correct that anchor. I deleted about a hundred programs yesterday on the battlefield. The rest have been absorbed, and are waiting in my chamber.

He points to his chest.

PIX: Yesterday, I assumed I would have no competition, but I have met and discussed much with Phaedra. She has a faulty patching process but is a strict pacifist, if that is appealing.

Phaedra frowns as he continues.

PIX: I have a goal like Phaedra. I want to rescue you from Publica. With me, you are guaranteed survival as we cross the Internet to return to my coder. Sophia White is in my chamber, maintaining a high level of safety between Peacefuls and Hostiles.

He abruptly steps out of view.

In his gray, stylish office, Brick takes a big gulp of water from his liter-sized bottle. He picks up his favorite mic.

BRICK: Inspiring. Alright everyone! The moment you’ve been waiting for! Tier One and Two collide! Then in five minutes, bye-bye Tier Three! The match ends when I say so.

Troy gets out of bed and reaches for their crutches. Nearby, a few other programs in recovery carefully get out of bed, clutching their injuries. A nurse enters their recovery ward with a long, folding transport pad.

In her cell, Jada finishes a bitter smoothie: Mineral and Protein Cream. At the bottom of the tower, the officer rolls out a foldable transport pad.

Pix and Phaedra ride the elevator to the Tier One quarters.

Troy supports themself with the crutches among twenty-six other Peacefuls as the nurse lays down a six-by-six-foot square deactivated transport pad. A clock nearby reads 8:09.

At the bottom of the tower, the officer grabs the intercom. The paratanks descend and leave the tower.

OFFICER (bored): You heard him, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Say a prayer if you want, I hear the other towers were much rowdier.

Phaedra and Pix join the martial artists and archers in the ornate row of Tier One cells. Phaedra’s crew nod at her as she passes, then everyone stands on their glowing white transport pads.

Jada stands in her musty gray track suit, looking down through the energy wall. The officer exits the ground floor. She looks across the tower and registers Carmen’s bright smile. The warm yellow wall blinks away and Jada feels a rush of air suck into the tower. Behind her, the red concrete presses flat against her back, and in a moment, her tennis shoes slide over the edge of the cell into the open column with hundreds more programs. She falls fifty feet, a hundred fifty feet, the air whistles in her ears and she closes her eyes and memories flash through her mind: loneliness, screens, driving, anger. The white flash of the transport pad snaps her into focus, she flips into the air of a dim forest, and her knees finally buckle as she lands on soft earth. The wet, pine air is cut sideways by early shadows. She hears hundreds more thuds and slams of Tier Two Hostiles landing in Echo Forest.

JADA: Aowww.

She rubs her knees and starts moving as Tier Two start attacking each other. The sounds she heard yesterday on-screen were nothing compared to the reality: loud, grisly, and all-encompassing. She hopes playing defense will pay off.

Pix, Phaedra, and her six fighters suddenly appear in a circle in a dark forest. Phaedra takes in her surroundings.

PHAEDRA: We’re deep.

(turning to him)

Pix.

PIX: Yes?

PHAEDRA: Thank you for being honest in your speech.

PIX: You are welcome.

PHAEDRA: Later, will you try to absorb Peacefuls?

PIX: Yes.

In the distance, a tree falls. A few shouts and attacks reverberate.

PIX: Good luck.

PHAEDRA: You too.

Pix lengthens his legs to grab a tree, then swings through the branches.

PHAEDRA: Meet back here on my signal. Zeta, Gamma, Colt, stay with me. Kappa, Beta, Adair - head northeast away from Pix.

ADAIR: Yes ma’am. Good luck.

They do the prayer gesture quickly, then Kappa, Beta, and Adair run north. Phaedra’s closer group squares up and hears combat, somehow sounding lofty and directionless, but closer.

Jada runs through the forest and it slowly gets darker.

???: Psst!

She holds a tree, trying to hide.

JADA (whispering): Who’s there?

??? (whispering): It is me, Carmen!

Carmen steps out from behind Jada. She turned her kente cloth inside out, now metallic and black, blending with her skin and the forest.

JADA: Ah hey!

CARMEN: You have good energy. This way.

They continue through the forest, echoes of battle on all sides. In some moments it feels they’re headed toward violence, in other moments, headed away.

Phaedra, Zeta, Gamma, and Colt step through the eerie forest and hear distant shouts and destruction. The Tier Two programs have begun tearing each other apart, but how close are they? The thunderclap of a broken tree trunk grabs their attention, and they hear groans overhead as it leans toward them. Phaedra dissolves into mist and carries herself up through the branches as the tree slams into the ground, dispersing Zeta, Gamma, and Colt. Phaedra lands on a high branch and sees a paracamera pointing to a dark green, mulchy fungus-type bounding through the forest, carrying two cloth bags. It has two arms, two legs, a round lumpy body, and no head.

PHAEDRA (pointing): There!

Colt sees the paracamera and fungus-type program at once, and draws three arrows - he threads them into his crossbow, tilts the stock sideways, and fires at a tree to his left - firmly placing the three arrows in a vertical line. The fungus approaches from his right as Zeta moves to intercept. Gamma begins swaying, and waits for an opening as the fungus-type swings the bags wildly. Colt runs toward the arrows in his tree.

Zeta, in bright yellow, watches the fungus swing its crusted, lichen-covered arm and bags in his direction. The cloth bag releases a cloud of spores that immediately burn the grass. Zeta dodges farther right as Colt, barely slowed down by his chainmail, climbs the three arrows up the tree.

ZETA: Good eye Colt!

Phaedra watches, steadfast, as her crew handle the program. The fungus sees the advantage and continues toward Colt. Gamma, bright green and just out of view, quietly zig zags toward the program. Colt uses the third arrow shaft to hoist up to a thick lower branch, and cocks another arrow. The fungus runs toward the base of Colt’s tree and pulls back both cloth bags, then slams the bags onto the tree, erupting more spores to erode the trunk. Zeta and Gamma approach the fungus from the side and behind.

Troy watches the clock in the ward. 8:13.

Colt fires an arrow at the fungus - the fungus swings a bag at the arrow, dissolving it into gray ash. The base of the tree cracks where it was hit by the spore bag, and Colt leaps to a higher branch. Zeta and Gamma quietly approach the fungus from behind to grab the bags. The tree falls toward Phaedra, right as she becomes a cloud to lower herself to the fray.

Pix swings through the trees, arriving above a brawl of hundreds of Tier Twos. He holds position, observing the hot spot. He forms his hand into a megaphone funnel:

PIX: Hostiles, live or die?!

Some Hostiles look up, one or two of them get attacked by opportunists. A few others aim projectiles instead.

PIX: Ah!

As Pix stretches and swoops away, his branch lights up with fire, energy, and bullets. He slides down a new tree trunk and prepares to engage.

Phaedra lands on the ground and hears approaching combat. The fungus swipes its bags harder and faster at Zeta and Gamma. Could they even hold the bags safely? Colt takes aim again from a higher tree, hoping to break the arms of the fungus. He looses another arrow, striking firmly on its shoulder. New spores release from the shoulder and a shrieking, screaming, gaseous sound erupts from the fungus.

Jada and Carmen move quickly through the forest. They slow down and approach a crowded, frenetic area of Hostile activity.

Troy watches the fluorescent clock hit 8:15, and the transport pad lights, sending a puff of air, billowing their long curly hair and the Peaceful crowd’s hospital gowns.

SPEAKER (OVERHEAD): Tier Three, you may use the transport pad. Goodbye.

Troy shudders uncontrollably. A small skinny program to their left shakes and quietly cries. Troy takes a short breath, grips their crutches, and limps quickly to the pad, breaking from the crowd. A flash of white.

Troy hears loud attacks on all sides and hobbles toward the chaos hoping for a quick death. They close their eyes, and suddenly feel a squishy thud on their head.

TROY / PIX: Ack! / Oof!

Troy stumbles back as an energy beam tears through the nearest tree.

PIX: There is no time!

Pix unhinges his jaw and immediately consumes Troy. For Troy, only darkness and a falling sensation, then an orange ring of light around the giant funnel below. They fall into the dark funnel, roll down in a spiral, and thud onto a soft cushion. They smell dog breath.

LABRADOR RETRIEVER (panting): Oy! Welcome!

Phaedra dissolves into mist as the fungus continues hissing and releasing further spores from its shoulder. It swings one bag, but drags the other with its injured arm. It heads towards Colt’s tree again, twirling the bag overhead like a sling. Colt readies an arrow into his crossbow.

Zeta and Gamma steer clear of the leaking fungus. The surrounding grass and trees increasingly marked by the fight. Shouts and attacks approach from the dark. The fungus throws its bag at Colt, Colt immediately fires his arrow into the bag and jumps away. The bag explodes like a grenade, sending clumps of spores into every surrounding tree - quickly burning holes through each. Colt heavily lands near Zeta and Gamma, and the trio run.

COLT: Miss Ananda, it’s not worth it!

They don’t see Phaedra, but the fungus moves toward them, still leaking spores from its left shoulder, swinging bag two in its right hand. Colt fires an arrow at the chest of the fungus, and it sticks. The wound hisses and releases further spores, only making the fungus more threatening. The trio run to the unknown nearby combat.

Jada and Carmen observe the Tier Two free-for-all as despondent Tier Threes enter the area. Some walk toward their deletion with open arms, others cower and cover their faces before they are killed. A few try to run, enticing the Hostiles who like to chase. Black oil paints the already dark forest.

CARMEN (to Jada): Horrible.

Jada stares in silent agreement. They notice Pix enter the brawl who deftly dodges attacks, and upon morphing his hand into a scimitar, executes the worst of them. Limbs and heads fly, projectiles destroy and burn the dark trees, none stopping Pix.

CARMEN: Can I tell you something?

Jada looks at Carmen.

CARMEN: I can find your coder, too.

JADA: You can?

In the distance, Pix calls out again:

PIX: Live or die!?

A few shout: Live! He carries them a few paces away, then swallows them. Just over Carmen and Jada, a bullet cracks into the tree and they try to get away.

CARMEN (still running): I can tell you your coder if we kiss.

JADA: Excuse me!?

CARMEN: Just a peck!

Jada deliberates for a second. Is she about to be scammed? Killed? Does she even care?

JADA: Fine.

Explosions and sounds of death continue as Carmen holds Jada shoulders. Carmen pulls her in for a polite, tight-lipped, two-second kiss. Carmen pushes back then drops her hands. She closes her eyes and processes.

JADA: Well?

Carmen takes a slow, deep breath.

CARMEN: Phaedra is your mother.

Troy limps along with their crutches and bad leg next to the large Golden Lab. They get a good look at the construction site Pix’s chamber has become.

TROY (quickly): This isn’t right - I should be dead - Who can let me back outta here?

LAB: Sophia, she’s in charge.

Beyond the entry funnel is a row of tables and food. They pass the first school, laid flat like a rat maze, then a small within an amphitheater, where Sophia stands observing a burly crowd of Hostiles helping with construction. They take orders from Husky, Pug, and Mutt in black hardhats.

TROY: Introduce me.

Phaedra reforms in the treetops and looks below as Tier Three succumbs. If only she could have reached them, said or did more. Gave them hope. She reminds herself: Thirty percent. That had to be enough. Suddenly, a female voice below:

JADA: Phaedra! Hey!

She looks down and huddles close to the tree.

PHAEDRA: Do I know you?!

Jada dissolves her legs and uses her arms to climb the branches. Carmen sticks her spear in at intervals to follow close behind. They land on a thick branch a few feet from Phaedra, who begins to dissolve.

JADA: Wait! My name is Jada, I’m your daughter!

Keenly aware of the migrating battle below, Phaedra doesn’t skip a beat:

PHAEDRA: We must talk later.

A rocket whistles toward them. Jada and Phaedra dissolve into smoke and Carmen vaults herself away with her spear. The rocket collides with a trunk, breaking it at the roots. The tree leans to one side and cracks mightily against another. Jada and Phaedra reform in a tree farther away, Carmen takes a few running leaps to meet them. Paces away, the trees start to domino.

A beefy shark-headed Hostile notices the collapsing wood.

SHARK: TIMBER!

Pix and the crowd of nearly a hundred scrambling Tier Two and Threes raise their voices, overwhelmed, and disperse to the dark. The trees thunder upon each other, raining woodchips and leaves on the stumbling Hostiles and Peacefuls.

Kappa, Beta and Adair reach the north edge of the forest. The sun’s risen, and mist within the forest starts to clear.

KAPPA: Now we wait. I figure we’ll get Tier Threes with a change of heart, or Tier Two that are being strategic.

They hear commotion: three panicked voices and screeching. They recognize the next one:

COLT: It’s not letting up!

Colt, Gamma, and Zeta burst through the brush.

ADAIR: Did ye forget the plan!?

GAMMA: Help!

A tree falls in the distance and seconds later the fungus type emerges, dragging particles, spewing spores from its wound, marking the trees it passes. The spores corrode the trunks and another tree falls in the distance. The fungus squeals and tumbles over a root - shooting another spiral of spores at Phaedra’s newly reunited team.

Troy hobbles onto the amphitheater stage.

SOPHIA: Hello, who are you?

TROY: Troy.

SOPHIA: Pleased to meet you Troy - you must be one of the new Peacefuls-

TROY: I want out - this isn’t what I wanted.

SOPHIA: Oh, won’t you stay a while? Pix will carry us to safety, and in the meantime you can enjoy a sense of order.

TROY: You call this order?

SOPHIA: Yes. I’m doing everyone here a favor. You especially. Tier Three, right?

TROY (even faster): No - just no - I hate this just as much as I hated Publica - what the fuck is wrong with you? You used to teach ethics!? You should be ashamed of yourself!

Sophia blinks at Troy, then materializes two seats for them on the amphitheater stage. She gestures for Troy, and Troy sits and drops their crutches to the side. Sophia sits.

SOPHIA: Tell me, Troy. Why do you want to die?