Microstory 2788: You Can See Smart Dust With a Flashlight in a Dark Room

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When they’re not running through challenges or going to funerals, the candidates live in a single house together. They’ve not actually competed in anything else since the platform event, but more are theoretically coming. Until then, Tamerlane Pryce believes that the house itself is just as much part of the contest as any formal game.

“Back even before my time, reality shows were blowing up,” Tamerlane explains. He’s standing in front of everyone in the communal living area like a college lecturer. “They weren’t documentaries that maintained boundaries to adhere to cinéma vérité rules. They were money-making machines, designed to get viewers hooked, and advertisers drooling. The primary purpose was to put a bunch of people together in stressful scenarios, and generate friction. Some shows didn’t even have challenges. People were just there, letting their conflicting personalities produce the entertainment.

“These kinds of shows died out—not because broadcast networks decided to be more ethical, or because viewers wanted more intellectual programming—but because tensions gradually died out naturally. It’s a cliché for a reason. Transitioning to a post-scarcity economy didn’t only end poverty overnight. It took away a lot of perfectly healthy societal conflict too. It’s okay to argue with your neighbors about whether your trash bins should be left on corners of the driveway, or on the curb, partially in the grass. But when everyone moved to megastructure arcologies, those problems disappeared, because now everyone has the same trash chute in the same place.”

He’s right about that. People mostly don’t have little personal problems anymore because everything they genuinely need is provided. Things only get hairy when your ambitions call for something greater, like, say, a ship, or the superintendency of a whole planet. So why is it that they’re being filmed when they’re just trying to live together in this big—but still, paradoxically, a little too small—house? Or even are they? The candidates can’t say for sure, because the whole point of smart dust is that it’s hard to spot. They have been stripped of more than their advanced substrates. They don’t have access to the kind of technology they would need to be certain of anything. They need to find the exact text of whatever contract the coordinators think they signed.

“Are you on your way to reaching a point, or are we trapped in a circle?” one of the Eyrenlanders snarks at Pryce.

Pryce smiles like he appreciates the question. “The point is, I think the smart dust question is just another challenge, which is why we’ve not been pulled out for something else in the last few days. I don’t know what they had planned for the funeral. I’m guessing no one predicted that little Pickpocket would crash the party, but we have to assume that everything is a test. We can’t move on unless we solve this.”

“Well, you’re the genius, aren’t you?” a different Eyrenlander asks. Jande is refusing to learn any of their names. If any of the non-Eyrenlanders gets the job, it could be okay, but he doesn’t trust any of the five—or rather, the four remaining. “I mean, that’s why you were in prison, because even before people could download knowledge into their brains, you became the father of consciousness transference, right?”

Tamerlane nods. “I admit, this is a blind spot for me. I was hyperfocused on that technology, and essentially ignored all other fields, such as covert surveillance. So if there’s a way to detect smart dust without a literal smart dust detector, I don’t know it.”

Dare Finnian has been slouched on the couch as he’s listening to this, drinking a beverage known as a soda. Van and the other producers must really be getting their cues from 21st century broadcasting because soft drinks haven’t been popular since pretty much back then. He sighs, downs the rest of his drink, and crushes the can against his forehead before standing up. I’m gonna get another. Anyone want one?” He pivots on his hips back and forth. “Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Cool.” He walks off.

“Like nanotechnology, smart dust has to be powered by something.” It’s the blonde girl who tried to leave, and had to complete the first task on one leg. Her name is Priscilla Kool, but everyone calls her Kool. “You can’t make a fusion drive small enough. The containment components alone would be at least the size of a fingernail. Something in the house has to be providing wireless power. All we have to do is shut that off.”

They can hear Dare bangaranging in the kitchen.

“It’s probably just powered by the house,” Ersence reasons. “Even if they gave us access to the main power source and any auxiliary sources, we need that power. I need light to shave. I’m not going to stop shaving. There are some transhumanistic enhancements that even my people don’t shun. That was one of them. I hate body hair.”

More banging around from the kitchen.

“Can we help you find something?” Jande shouts. “Did you forget which one was the refrigerator? It’s the big silver one.”

Dare starts coming back into the room. “No, I hope what I’m looking for isn’t in the fridge. It would be a stupid place to put it. Though, looking at you lot...” He runs back out to the kitchen, then runs back fairly quickly. “No, not in there.”

“Perhaps if you told us what it was?” Jande offers.

Dare starts to open drawers and cabinets in this room now, which are mostly empty, though some contain boardgames or extra blankets. “Did I ever tell you why I became a hermit? Why did I leave society to go live in an asteroid all by myself?”

“You did it for the same reason everyone else does, I’m guessing,” Ersence says. “The individual no longer requires help from the tribe to survive. If you have the common core elements and at least one nanobot, you can make anything.”

Dare nods as he’s continuing to look. “There you are.” He takes out a giant flashlight, and starts to mindlessly hit his palm with it as he talks. “It’s not that I didn’t require people; it’s that other people are a danger. They are uncontrollable variables, which threaten each and every one of us. I ran away from people because I suffer from extreme paranoia, and the drugs didn’t work. They just made me paranoid that I wasn’t being paranoid enough to protect myself. I never felt safer than when I was alone.”

“So why come back?” Kool presses. “Why sign up for this competition?”

Dare smiles. “That’s a story for another time. Right now, we have to find that smart dust. That’s where this thing comes in.”

“The problem is that it’s small, not dark,” an Eyrenlander argues. “It’s not hiding behind corners, or in the carpet. It’s floating all around us...if it exists at all.”

“The darkness, my good man...is precisely what we need! I believe in a thing called love. Madam Tridali, would you please do me the honor?”

Ersence realizes where he’s indicating. She reaches up and switches off the light.

“Regular dust is dull. Smart dust...sparkles.” Dare sweeps the area with the torch.

Okay, there’s the smart dust. Now. What are they going to do about it?

Microstory 2786: The First to Fall

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Tamerlane Pryce. That is the name of the mysterious last-minute addition to the candidate pool. Jande knows that name. Everyone on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida knows it, and probably beyond. In the early days of colonization, he was responsible for an ambitious—but ultimately abandoned—planetary project. Back on Earth in the ancient days, they used to have these things called zoos. They locked animals in cages, and let people gawk at them. Over time, various state regulations attempted to make these facilities more and more ethical, and that pattern never really stopped.

Zoos were eventually outlawed, replaced with less harmful methods of using animals as entertainment, but these weren’t all that great either. They were a lot better, but still dangerous, and in some cases, still exploitative. Space colonization sat on the cusp of basically doing away with the animal entertainment industry altogether. It was ultimately replaced with simulated environments, but the early Bidans didn’t know that at the time. They figured the best way not to disturb animals was to pretend to be them.

Pryce was placed in charge of cataloging every species on the planet, and developing the mind transference technology that would allow a user to become whatever creature they wanted, and live amongst the native population. The project didn’t last long. There was such fierce backlash that they shuttered the program, and transitioned the world to a less invasive culture. Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida is what it is today because early settlers were very deliberately trying to avoid Pryce’s vision. They live in harmony with the fauna now. Many believe they owe Pryce everything, but that’s a bit of a stretch. The question is, where has he been all this time?

“I’m not the Pryce you know,” Tamerlane explains as Van is introducing the rest of the contenders. “It would be hard to explain to you, but in your terms, I’m a dupe. I never did what the history books said I did. That was all someone else. But I was informed that I have always been entitled to a piece of the pie, so I’m here now.”

“And finally,” Van announces, “Jande Ter Avest!”

Jande steps forward and waves at the crowd and cameras. What is he doing?

“As you can see folks,” Van goes on, “they’re all very confused. To them, it has only been a few hours. That is by design. We want them to be disoriented. We want them to be a little shaky. It will make them want it more. And what is it they want?”

“Oversight!” the audience yells, as if they rehearsed it, which they probably have.

Jande is getting the feeling that this is not the first episode of this reality show. They probably produced a whole introduction while the candidates were dead.

“Oversight, that’s right!” Van agrees. “They wanna be the fabled Superintendent. Now, lots of cultures have this rank. It scales however high you want. But from what we read in the charter, Bida does things a little differently.” He’s a lot more charismatic than he seemed when Jande first met him. “Most Superintendents are there just in case. They’re all about staffing. If someone gets out of line, and bureaucracy is too slow to correct them, they can step in and push them out. This means that a Superintendent has to be above reproach, so it’s pretty important that deciders get it right.

“It’s even more important for us, because the Bidan Superintendent will have a great deal of responsibilities, and even more power. We’ll get to that as the competition heats up. Hint-hint, wink-wink. But for now, candidates...we need to see where you stand.” He waits a moment. “Seriously, look down. Where do you stand?”

Jande looks down at the floor. A glowing number 1 is now under his feet.

“Say it out loud! Say it proud! Where do you stand!” Van encourages.

Most of the candidates call out their numbers, and they are all weird. They don’t go from 1 to 11. They go as high as 815, which is where Dare Finnian sits.

“This is your qualified rating, or QR. Now, we’re really excited about the QR, because it’s not actually in the charter. It was very vague about this, but we came up with a scoring system between one and eight-fifty. Everyone is starting in a different place, because you all have pasts. As you can see, the Quiratani are ranked significantly higher, but they won’t stay that way for long.” He lowers the mic and looks over at the closest drone camera, which is of a different design than the others. “Can we drop ‘em?”

Part of the floor starts collapsing into nanites, leaving only circular platforms underneath everyone. One of the Eyrenlanders is too far away from his number, and he slips over the edge. He has to grab on for dear life, or he’ll fall to his death.

Dare hops over to Pryce’s platform, then to the Eyrenlander’s, and helps him up.

“Ah, look at that!” Van notes. “They still think they’re friends!” He nods, and looks up at a leaderboard that has appeared in the sky. “Survey says...850! This is a competition, people. If you die, you’re done. There is no helping. There is no empathy. There is no mercy,” he adds in a grittier voice. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

Dare jumps back over to his own platform, head literally held high, unashamed.

Van waits for him to finish up. “Okay. That will not be the last time we see someone go over. The first challenge has just about begun. Candidates, I recommend you move to the centermost spot. It’s simple, but deadly. The game is called Still Hunter. The more you move, which doesn’t include blinking, swallowing, or facial tics, the more your platform will fall away. Eventually, you run out of platform, so don’t...move. The challenge doesn’t end until our first death. I’ll give you a few minutes to scratch your itches and do a little stretching, and then we’ll start the clock. Oh, wait, what’s this?”

A woman who is neither Quiratani nor Eyrenlander has jumped off of her platform, and grabbed onto someone else’s shaft. She survived, and is now sliding down.

“Looks like we have a runner,” Van explains. “I’ll have to confer with my associates so we can figure out what we’re gonna do here. In the meantime, I hope you’re all situated, because the clock starts in four, three, two, aaaaaand go!”

Jande does not remember the escape artist’s name, but he’ll learn it because she never leaves the arena. She walks back in an hour later with her head hung low. “They won’t let me quit. I failed to read the fine print.” She goes back to her post to suffer a penalty for trying to leave. She has to stand on one leg for twice as long as she was gone.

The gamemakers probably expected the challenge to last a lot longer than it does, which is what you get for only making it last until the first person falls. One of the cocky Eyrenlanders cannot stop moving. He appears to be particularly not well-suited for a baseline human body. He unwillingly chips away at his platform little by little. It turns to dust and sloughs off in inconsistent volumes. Only five minutes after the attempted quitter’s return, he loses his footing, and plummets to his death.

The competition has taken its first casualty. At the end, Jande has retained his rank, having barely lost any of his platform. Dare, on the other hand, lost none of it at all, and jumped up to second place with a new score of 24. He is the biggest threat now.

Microstory 2785: It’s Actually About the Whole Planet

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As people are activated in their pods one by one, Jande steps up and takes charge. He asks about everyone’s experience. They all had the same one—the exact same one. The room looked the same, the executioners were the same, even the audience sounded identical, save for their loved ones, who were swapped out respectively. Even the loners saw their parents, or someone else they once cared about. It’s unlikely that some were brought here on such short notice. Quantum casting is relatively easy, but people have their own lives, and the real slowdown would be explaining that this was a performative execution, and they should remain stoic the whole time while they watched.

For the most part, the contestants are fine with Jande playing the leader for now. They still think he was part of the operation from minute one, and they’re hoping he will share what he knows. It’s a fine line he’s walking here, letting them think that just enough to keep them cooperative, but not so much that it paints a target on his back.

They’re all wearing their birthday suits, and it’s rather cold in this room. It’s not until the last pod opens that a wall parts in half, revealing a hidden doorway. The other side is a locker room. It’s even colder, but they find clothes. They are t-shirts, shorts, and skirts, but they’re better than nothing. They get dressed, then start to look around for clues. There is nowhere to sit, which is weird for a locker room, and also frustrating because they’re still wobbly from the mind transference process.

Even the pros say it’s hard on them, probably because this is the weakest they have ever been. Jande spent all that time working out because he didn’t know this would happen. He already was in a baseline model. He should have realized that the coordinators don’t just want them to be unenhanced; they want them to be evenly matched. They’re all slender and lanky, but also short now. Everyone is pushing each other to get to the one mirror, but Jande doesn’t spend too much time in front of it. He’s uncomfortable, seeing himself with the same face but a wildly different body.

Ersence is running her fingers along the walls, looking for another seam for a door. She’s doing it carefully and methodically, and hasn’t used the mirror even once.

“What does it matter?” Jande asks her. “Whatever will happen will happen, and we won’t be able to control it. I think we have all seen that by now.”

Ersence doesn’t look away from her work. “We just died, I recall. I don’t like the feeling of being trapped. Everything my people want could be achieved with a rotating habitat. We could plant trees, and fill lakes. We could even have mountains. But a planet just hits harder. I don’t like enclosed spaces. If I can find a way out before these people let me out, then that’s what I’m gonna do, if you don’t mind...husband.”

“You two are married?” It’s the hermit who should not have even known that this competition was happening. “Forgive me, but, what’s the point? Are you just trying to maximize your chances? You have an 18% chance of winning, compared to my 9%?”

“Marriage is different for us,” Jande explains to the hermit. “It can be for love and partnership, but it doesn’t have to be. I mostly needed an employee.”

Ersence is not offended by this, but the hermit looks over as if in anticipation of her sadness. “Well, then I suppose my odds haven’t gone down, so that’s good.”

“Actually, they have,” an Eyrenlander jumps in. “Their odds are not only 18%. Working together gives them an advantage over whatever is coming to us. If we’re asked to push boulders up a hill, each of us is stuck alone, and it may be physically impossible in these raggedy bodies. But if you team up... Same number of people, same number of boulders, but two of us can actually get both of theirs done.”

“I just said, we are not a team,” Jande reminds the asshole Eyrenlander.

“Yeah, you did say that,” the Eyrenlander replies. “The other day, I was in a virtual construct where I told people I was a zookeeper.” He drops down to a whisper. “Wanna know a secret? I’m not really. Zoos don’t exist anymore.”

They stand in silence for a moment before the hermit breathes in and extends his hand towards Ersence. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dare Finnian, but you can call me Dare.” He shakes Jande’s hand after hers. “Dare Finnian, call me Dare.” He starts going around the room, repeatedly saying the same thing in slightly different ways.

His ice-breaking triggers a massive wave of introductions. They don’t all shake hands, and they definitely don’t provide their life stories, but everyone gets a say. Except for one man. He’s standing off to the side, looking smug, but not making any reaction to anyone else’s words. He’s just standing there like he knows something no one else does.

Jande walks up to the mysterious stranger, who must be the last guy to register for this. “You’ve been quiet, cowboy. You got a name, or what?”

“Or what,” the man responds without blinking.

Jande looks him up and down. “You look a little familiar. Is that your real face?”

“What is real anyway?” Oh, he’s so mysterious and intriguing.

“I’m gonna need a name, sir,” Jande insists. “It’s a safety thing. No one here is anonymous, and I won’t let you be the exception, so out with it.”

“Found it!” Ersence has her hand behind a corner locker. “Here, help me.” A Bidan woman goes over and helps her remove the entire locker from its socket. Without hesitation, Ersence reaches for the recessed toggle and pulls it down.

The entire ceiling cracks in the center. The two halves lift up and away from each other. Simultaneously, the floor pushes the contestants up like an elevator, leaving the walls and lockers behind. The coordinators are truly leaning into the tropes with this thing; it happens in every movie about challengers in a deadly competition.

The floor reaches the surface, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps ascending towards the sky as a crowd of tens of thousands cheer from the stands. Jande just thought this was going to be a low-key, private matter, but it’s a spectacle. Cameras imply that they’re being watched by people all over the world, and maybe beyond. They really are taking a page out of the classics, like Gladiator and The Hunger Games series.

Not too far from their platform, a smaller one rises in tandem. Vantu Hidayat is on it alone, which is who Jande figured would serve as the third-party judge. “Assembled minds and remote viewers, thank you for bearing witness to this occasion! We have been working on this program for the last four months, and have finally reintegrated our candidates into new substrates!”

It’s been four months? It’s already spring, that’s not good.

“I know you’re all anxious to get going, but first, we have to inform the candidates of something we discovered while we were researching the charter!” Van looks over at the larger platform, and lowers his voice. “You believe that you will be competing for the fate of Quiratan, but centuries ago, it served as the first settlement on this planet. The Superintendent position would not oversee only one community. Winning this will place you in a supervisory role over all of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida.”

Microstory 2783: Strangers to Lovers to Rivals

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It has taken a few weeks, but the Quiratan Council has finally approved what are colloquially being called the Superintendent Games. They’re keeping it quiet, though, because of some very vague language in the original charter. The role is up for grabs by literally anyone in the universe. If they broadcast the news, some rando from a crabitat could come in and order the uquira fields to be destroyed, or the military could use them for strategic purposes. The Eyrenlanders are threat enough, and since they’re paying close attention to what’s happening here, there is no keeping them out of it.

Fortunately, it sounds like the tests will be grueling, and bodily-exclusive, meaning anyone in an enhanced substrate will be required to downgrade to baseline human status. This includes shutting down backup consciousness streams. If you die in the games—and that is absolutely a possibility—you die for good. You’re not even allowed to keep a copy of yourself in storage prior to registration, just so at least one version of you survives. This is a one and done deal, and the majority of hopefuls are not willing to take that risk, especially not since the particulars are not entirely clear. Even with the mortal peril, Jande is not doing this alone. Eight others have opted to vie for the position, including one of those random transtellar people they were worried about. He somehow found out about it from all the way in the galaxy’s Extended Bubble.

While everyone waits for the games, the Doma Tertians have become integrated into the community. Most native families have taken two or three new spouses out of the pool, while Jande has only married Ersence. He didn’t feel he needed any more. A fire started as a result of the black hole on one farm, which wiped out almost all of their fields before it could be contained. While they wait for the soil to renew itself for later in the year, the family has opted to sublet the Ter Avest farm for winter work. It’s a win-win situation for both families, and not nearly the first time something like this has happened, so there was a clear protocol for it. Jande, meanwhile, has been in training.

Despite what detractors might say, Jande doesn’t have any more information about the Superintendent competition than anyone else. The procedures were literally kept locked in a vault. It took a day just to find this vault in the first place, and then a couple more days to figure out how to unlock it.

Anyone who lays eyes on any of the documents that were found inside becomes instantly disqualified from participating. One of the Eyrenlanders broke into council chambers a few days ago, and after some interrogation, admitted that he was trying to steal competition secrets. Everyone assumed from that response that he was looking for a competitive advantage, but Jande pressed further. The intruder eventually confessed that he actually intended to show the plans to all competitors but one, so the games would be over before they even began. That’s not even the main concern right now, though. The most pressing issue is coming in about ninety seconds.

Jande is lying on his back on the bench, pressing the weights up towards the sky. His head is throbbing from the workout, but he’s not done with his set, so he keeps going. His vision sometimes blurs, which would be fine if every time it happened he didn’t start to panic that a black hole was opening up just above the clouds. Whatever, that just raises his heart rate, which is good for him right now. It’s nearly over when his one and only current wife’s face moves in from the side, haloed by Tau Ceti’s sun dog. She knows not to speak when he’s in this state. He finishes and sits up.

“Are you well and done?” She hands him his towel that was hanging on a branch.

Jande breathes and wipes his brow. “I’ll never be done, but I can take a break.”

“Good.” Ersence clears her throat. “We’ve not been married for long, so you don’t know me very well, but one thing you should understand is that I don’t like to waste time. If I have something to tell you, I will tell it, and I won’t be delicate.”

“Marriage isn’t the same here as it is in other places,” Jande begins. “This is an arrangement, we don’t have to get to know each other if you prefer to remain detached.”

“I was hoping you would feel that way,” she says, “because this next part would feel like a betrayal if you thought you were entitled to some level of loyalty.”

Jande forces himself to stop panting so it doesn’t undercut the seriousness of whatever she’s about to say. “This sounds concerning. Get on with it.”

“I have entered the competition,” Ersence reveals. “I want to be Superintendent.”

Jande stands and begins to peel off his sweaty clothes. “I should have known. That’s not a loyalty question, Ersence. It’s about common decency. You had nothing. I took you in, and limited the amount of work you would be doing. Do you have any idea how long it takes to find a spouse the usual way? The compatibility tests can only get you so far. People think they wanna work, right up until about a day and a half after they wake up achy, sore, and unfulfilled. That’s why we typically wait two months before the wedding.” He steps into the shower. “Eleven degrees, two minutes,” he commands.

Ersence shakes her head. “I’ll never get your culture. Do you like tech or not?”

Jande stands under the cold water. “Tech is a tool. Using my voice is a convenience, but it does not save me meaningful effort. Our culture dictates that automation is not to be used as a replacement for labor. No one would categorize taking a shower as work, so it doesn’t go against our principles.” He starts to scrub up.

Ersence watches the neighbors taking a walk along the path. She waves reluctantly. “What were you saying about decency and compatibility?” she questions.

“If you wanna be a contender, I won’t stop you. I understand that you’re trying to do what’s best for your people, but that’s where you and I differ. I’m trying to do what’s best for the land.” The water stops. He grabs his bath towel. “Studies have shown that uquira and uquirapods live happier, and for longer, when eyren are nearby. Does that make sense to you? What essentially boils down to a waste product improves quality of life for a species that didn’t evolve the instinct to do it for themselves. We think the unfertilized eggs that people all over the galaxy consume release a pheromone that their progenitors like. But they need us to plant for them. It’s called a symbiotic relationship.

“I’m fighting to preserve that, whether I have the honor of living here, or not. This is the only planet we have ever found that has as diverse a biosphere as Earth. I’m a part of that, and now so are you. The Eyrenlanders milk it for all it’s worth. What they don’t see is the farmwork is the gift, not the chore that you have to complete to get to the nuggety center. Do you appreciate what I’m saying to you, Ersence?”

“You’re saying that the Eyrenlanders have to be stopped at all costs.”

Jande chuckles. “I’m saying all uquirakind are depending on us to protect them.”

“Well, I didn’t sign up for the animals,” Ersence admits. “I did it for the Doma Tertians, but if I win, you and yours will always have a place here.”

“Let’s both hope it doesn’t come to that. May the best person win.”

Microstory 2764: Ghostriders

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In this post-scarcity economy, gold is not valueless. It’s actually quite useful. It has a number of applications in electronics, aerospace engineering, and even medicine. It’s used for all sorts of mundane things. And that’s because, in this day and age, destroying entire planets only to extract their raw material is on its way to becoming a matter of it being Tuesday.

Many treasure hunts end with a cache of precious metals and jewels. They’re not usually quite this extensive, but they signal the end of the challenge. The accomplishment of that challenge is the real prize. Hunters usually don’t even take the treasure, but leave it for the next batch, or if they do, they take only a small trinket to remind them of the good memories. No one needs this much, except major engineering operations. The disappointing part, however, is not the letdown of the prize itself, but that the hunt might be over. They went through a lot, but they still expected more.

They tie the boat off, and step out. They begin to walk around on the cave floor between the piles and piles of goblets, coins, bars, crowns, and other accessories. They’re going to spread out to look for clues. There has to be something, whether this is the end or not. Every hunt tells you when you’re done in no uncertain terms. It’s never simply implied. They don’t need fanfare, just undeniable proof.

“Don’t touch anything,” Minotaur warns. “It’s sometimes a literal booby trap, and sometimes a curse to teach of the dangers of greed, or whatever.”

“We might need to dig,” Jolanda points out. “A clue might be under the gold.”

“You’re right,” Minotaur admits. “Just don’t take anything.”

“Should we look for something special?” Elise asks them. “Like the only blue gemstone, or something anachronistic or out of place?”

“That’s a good idea,” Mino agrees. “Most everything is probably a distraction. The important thing will be simple or not valuable to the pirates we’re pretending to be.”

“Something out of place,” Zelda begins, “like this?” She’s standing beside what initially appeared to be the cave wall. But she’s opening it like a door. It’s heavy, so she and Miracle hold it open for everyone to walk through single-file.

They’re now standing in another locker room. The lights are flickering on for them. Their names are on their respective lockers again. Colley is the first to open his.

“What is that?” Rage asks. “What is that for?”

Jolanda is frowning. “Racing. That’s a racer’s uniform, including the helmet.”

“Why do you look so upset?” Rage questions. “This is right up your alley.”

“Because I know I’m gonna win, and I might have to hurt you to do it.”

“I don’t understand,” Elise says. “Don’t listen to Hrockas when he says only one person can win. We don’t have to follow his rules all throughout. We’re in charge here.” She said it, but she doesn’t mean it. They’re really not. She’s just trying to be positive.

“This is a headless racing uniform,” Jolanda begins to clarify. “It’s a niche race that kind of went obsolete. The helmet gives it away. You see, they didn’t just suddenly come up with mind-transference and uploading technology. It was a grind. There was a time when updates were periodic, rather than continuous. It was metaphysically scary. But not as scary as this. No updates, but a local chip implanted in your head. You see, unless you’re an octopus, the head is the only place where your brains are stored. And it’s a lot easier to protect that above all else.

“Some astronauts were given these kinds of helmets. If something went wrong—if all else failed—your spinal column is severed, and your head is preserved. You lose consciousness, so someone has to retrieve you, and give you a new body. This tech came out of the private sector, so while they had government contracts, they also had private ones. This gave rise to the deadliest format of racecar driving. The ancillary tech wasn’t that reliable. Racers occasionally died because sometimes, their heads were destroyed as well, because of-freaking-course they were. Or sometimes the reintegration process simply didn’t work. They signed waivers, but it was a dark time in our history. Now, with consciousness streaming, the races can technically be deadlier, but reliably temporary.”

“This,” Zelda says. “This is why Hrockas gave us an out. It wasn’t all the storms.”

“Can’t we all pile into a car together?” Elise reasons. “Even compact cars can fit seven if you’re creative and willing to get really familiar with each other’s bodies.”

“The cars are too small. You wouldn’t be able to fit two people,” Jolanda clarifies.

“Now, let’s all calm down,” Rage tells them when she notices everyone growing more stressed out about this. “All we see are the uniforms and helmets. We have no idea what’s waiting for us on the other side of those doors. We might have a choice of challenges. Those helmets might just be manufactured to look like decappers. Let’s first get changed, but keep the helmets off, and go outside. Sound okay?”

The seven of them gladly remove their tattered, disgusting tunics, shower down, and suit up. They walk through the set of doors beyond the showers holding their helmets. They expected to find seven cars waiting for them, but there are instead two dozen. It’s tempting to believe that they will have their pick of the litter, but they know they’re not that lucky. They’re going to be racing against some other team, or other individuals. This obviously raises the stakes. Now it’s plausible that none of them will win. Jolanda is the best driver in their group, but she’s not invulnerable.

What’s interesting about it is that seven cars are sitting separately from the other 17, so they don’t know what that’s about. While they’re examining the vehicles, and debating whether they should get in, or try something else, seven zombie ghosts appear before them. It’s the same ones from the sea before, and they know that, because they grew to be quite familiar with their distinctive looks, despite them all being undead. They’re on the other side of the cars, and end up walking straight through them as they approach the humans. They move much less menacingly than they did before. Once they are a couple of meters from the hunters, they stand there and wait.

“Oh,” Rage finally says. “I think we’re each meant to choose one. That happens on the regular hunts all the time. They don’t expect you to magically know how to complete a task. If it’s a skill, an expert will train you on it. I think they’re our driving instructors.”

“Them?” Miracle questions. “They don’t exactly look the part.”

“Maybe they’re shortstaffed,” Zelda jokes. She steps forward, and points at one.

The ghost reaches out and pantomimes taking her hand. As he’s leading her to a car, he growls but more in a grumpy way, rather than violent. The one-footed captain isn’t here, which would have been awkward since they seem to have personalities now.

Rage sighs and gives the other line of cars the side-eye. “I suppose we have no choice if we want to keep going. Pick your partner. The competition may be pretty fierce. We won’t know until we learn, and hopefully there’s no time limit, because we practiced driving, but we didn’t train for this.”

Microstory 2757: Point of No Return

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Jolanda tries to walk out the door into the empty city, but Rage warns her off, saying that something is still wrong. They must have assembled the puzzle incorrectly. Perhaps it poisoned them and caused them all to lose time, or there’s just something weird going on that none of them can explain.

“I can explain it,” Miracle says as she walks right outside. “We are in a Facsimile.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Rage is in the doorway to protect everyone else.

Miracle rolls her eyes, and waves her arms like she’s parting the Red Sea. “Would you please? I need everyone to see and hear me.” She sighs. “I didn’t know we would encounter time travel on this journey. I thought it was possible, but I guess I gave Hrockas too much credit. I don’t have the time or bandwidth to explain everything, so let’s just go over the basics. Has anyone seen an old show called Stranger Things?”

A few people raise their hands, including Colley.

“There’s an evil world in that show that looks just like ours, except there aren’t any people in it, and it’s horrific. There are all sorts of vines and mold covering everything, and toxic particles float around all the time. Spoiler alert, what they eventually discover is that this copy of the world was created on a particular day in the past, like a snapshot of a single moment. That is basically what this is, but without the horror overtones. Well...there was that one time when zombies and other monsters were fabricated here in secret so they could be let loose on the populace—”

“I remember that,” Zelda jumps in. “I was trying to relax in Mildome when a serial killer from Bloodbourne suddenly attacked. They weren’t too hard to kill, though.”

They all look at her like she’s crazy.

“What? I don’t only spend my time in Adrenadome. I like bees and butterflies.”

“Well,” Miracle continues, “now you know, this is where they came from. I can’t tell you not to worry about lingering monsters, but let’s hope not. The person who controlled them no longer has control over this place. He was sent away. We actually fought alongside each other against a bigger threat, but he never returned. I’m just trying to give you an idea of where we are, and what we’ll find. Any questions so far?”

“Yeah.” Rage raises her hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Miracle sighs again. “Hrockas can force me into any substrate he wants, but he can’t stop me from using my powers. Those are based on my neurology, so he would have to kill me to get rid of them.” She squares her shoulders and makes sure that everyone is watching. She disappears, simultaneously reappearing on the ground a few meters away. She screams in agony as she holds her head. “Ah, you son of a bitch, what did you do?” More screaming.

A gargantuan holographic screen resolves in the sky. It’s Hrockas again. “Nuh-uh-uh. No time powers. You think I didn’t plan for that? This world is littered with temporal suppression fields. Good luck turning them all off.” He blinks away.

Elise helps Miracle back to her feet. “Don’t do that again. We get the idea.”

“I’m still not sure I believe it,” Rage reasons. “I can think of four major explanations off the top of my head for what she just did.”

“I have seen people do what she just did before,” Jolanda admits. “I was born on Proxima Doma. Before you ask, I wasn’t on the surface or in low-orbit when it was destroyed, but I did become a refugee. They ferried us to Gatewood where we could choose our final destinations for free. I ultimately opted to transmit my consciousness here, but not before I witnessed a riot that had to be quelled by a bunch of teleporting cops. I don’t think they were faking it. What would have been the point?”

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Minotaur gives Jolanda a hug from the side.

Miracle nods. “The faster-than-light technology some ships use now? Researchers didn’t simply finally figure it out. People like me gave it to them. They had this big meeting in the year 2400 with the, uhh...sort of council. I had nothing to do with it because I’m not on the Shortlist, but there’s a very low chance that your life has not been impacted directly by a time traveler one way or the other, for good or bad.

“Miss Shin, if you were a refugee, you probably spent some time on The Tangent, or at least you saw it. Their artificial gravity was a gift from that council. Hrockas has a number of friends with powers and patterns. A team of them was instrumental in making Castlebourne what it is today, and he continues to employ others. For the most part, they try to keep the tech more conventional, but there are some things normal physics can’t handle.” She gestures at the world around them. “This is proof of that. I’m betting they keep it up and running just in case they ever need it, for times like these.”

“So, what are we facing?” Zelda asks Miracle. “How dangerous is this tech?”

“You’re not actually listening to her,” Rage complains. “We can’t trust her.”

“I’m not trying to be your leader,” Miracle defends. “I’m only giving you the facts. What are we facing? No way to know, but throw your rule book out the window, because it no longer applies. Time travel is a very loose term, and a misnomer. Many who can manipulate spacetime don’t simply move forwards or backwards. Some can turn invisible by basically showing you what’s behind them instead of them. Some can duplicate themselves by pulling from microrealities. Hrockas may only be using this dimension to separate us from gen pop, but he also might be planning to throw temporal obstacles at us. Rage, you can listen to me or not, but if it’s that second option, I have an incredibly unfair advantage, because I’ve seen this stuff before.”

A deafening silence falls, making this city even more a liminal space than it was when they first set foot out here. Miracle could be wrong. The people they saw before might have been volumetric images. Or the dome they were in simply spun around to the other side, which was made to be a replica of this, but never populated. There are other explanations for what happened to them, but on the off-chance that Miracle isn’t mistaken or lying, they have to pay attention to her. Trust, but verify.

Elise stands over by her friend. “Rage is the leader. That’s not changing. Miracle, let’s call you the advisor.” She gestures to her main teammates. “We’ve been working together for weeks, and we know what each other has to offer. We’ve settled into our respective roles, so that can be yours. But until further notice, we must all be in an alliance together. Do you disagree, Miss Brighton?”

Miracle smiles. “I do not. Like I said, I don’t wanna lead. Advisor feels right.”

“Rage?” Elise asks, hoping that the tensions don’t escalate.

“Very well,” Rage decides. “I’ll listen to you, Miracle, but I promise nothing regarding my actions. If I want to make a different call, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Sounds good.” Miracle turns around. “Now. First thing we need to do is check for—” She takes a step forward, and suddenly disappears. A few seconds later, they hear her screaming from the heavens, right before she splats on the ground. “...Time mines.”

Microstory 2754: Starting Line

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Elise opens her eyes. She’s floating in artificial amniotic fluid. No, that’s not what it is, it doesn’t taste right. It tastes more...leafy? Like spinach that’s gone bad, or kale that hasn’t gone bad, because kale is the worst food God ever created. She’s trapped. She’s trapped in something opaque, which is not how body switching works. You’re supposed to be in a glass box, or in more advanced equipment, a clean and sterile pod. It’s not this, whatever this is. This is all wrong, and she’s panicking. She squirms around, looking for a way to escape, but doesn’t find it. She’s going to have to make her own.

She tries punching and she tries kicking, but neither of them work. That’s what makes her realize that this isn’t simply a pod. It’s a chrysalis. And that’s not how butterflies get out of their chrysalises. Elise feels around to make sure she knows where down is, and then she starts to spit. Opening her mouth amidst all this goo necessarily forces more goo back into her mouth. She thought it tasted bad before, but now it’s making its way down her throat. She starts to retch, and then she vomits. Even though it’s disgusting, the bile, saliva, and other fluids accelerate the mission.

The enzymes in Elise’s saliva weaken the chitin enough for her to tear through it. She can see light now, and feel the air. She vomits more so she can start breathing again. She continues to tear at the chrysalis until the opening is wide enough for her to get through. She tries to aim away from her own sick, but that’s stupid, because she’s already covered in filth. Elise reaches out to the floor with her hands, clumsily slipping on the fluids, but it slows her down enough to keep her from faceplanting.

She’s on her back now on the cool white floor of a small room. It’s not too small, though. It’s big enough to fit ten other chrysalises. Her whole team is here, plus the other team. Wait, there should be twelve in total, so who are we missing? She frantically starts knocking on the other chrysalises. “Jolanda? Rage? Is that you? Who’s in there?” she starts to say, looking for her people.

She can hear them moan back to her, but no one replies with words.

In the real world, with a real butterfly, you don’t want to help it get out of its chrysalis. The struggle is real, but it is not pointless. It’s a crucible, which strengthens the insect so it can literally spread its wings and fly. But they’re not in the real world, they’re in a simulation. It may be a base reality simulation, but it’s not natural. The others don’t need to go through what she just did. Elise stumbles over to a wall and wrenches a sconce from it. She starts tearing at the nearest chrysalis. Yeah, sometimes you gotta spit on that thing, but sometimes you need good old fashioned brute force.

A woman tumbles out of the chrysalis. It’s Miracle.

Elise catches her, and gently lowers her to the floor.

“Oh, thank you,” Miracle says. “I’ve forgotten what this feels like.”

“You’ve used this form factor before?” Elise has never even heard of it.

“Yeah, buncha times,” Miracle replies. As she’s resting on her hands behind her back, she looks around before her gaze returns to Elise. “You take left, I take right?”

They divide and conquer until the other nine hunters are free. Thankfully, all of Elise’s teammates are here. It’s Miracle who is missing one of hers. The girl she was trying to safely fly down to the ground, and who was wearing her shirt on backwards on the football pitch, is missing. Miracle says that she had an emergency mind transponder, which she probably used before she hit the ground. There was no way to know that they would survive it.

It’s different, though. Elise feels weak, and not just because she just had to force her way out of a chrysalis, and then help five other people do the same. Her vision isn’t as strong, her joints are achey, and she feels hunger in a way that she hasn’t since she was a kid, before she became immortal. This is a regular body, like the kind everyone had back in the days before humanity had even reached the longevity escape velocity. Her consciousness stream isn’t just unlinked. It doesn’t exist. There’s no backup plan now. If she dies, she truly dies, and she’s guessing the same goes for everyone else.

Once the last person is on his feet, the ceiling lifts up and to the side like the lid of a cardboard box, revealing only a dark void above them. It begins to rain once more, but this time, it’s just regular water, instead of acid. Well, it’s also a bit soapy. The room fills up around ten centimeters of water and suds before the drains open up and start to wash all the gunk and junk away. Next come the blowers to dry them off. They all just stand there and accept it, because there’s no door to exit, and they want to get cleaned off, even if at the end of this is, they get decapitated by a Jigsaw wannabe. They are here to play a game at any rate, and this appears to be the start of it, for whatever reason.

After they’re sufficiently dry, seams appear on the back wall. They slide upwards, revealing eleven chairs in front of eleven lockers. Each one is labeled with one of their names. The hunters proceed to their assigned lockers, retrieve the generic clothes that were placed there for them, and get dressed. But nothing happens after they’re done.

“I think we’re supposed to sit down to trigger the next phase,” Elise figures.

They follow her advice, and once that last butt hits that last seat, the wall in front of them transforms into a monitor.

A man appears on screen. “Hello, and welcome to Treasure Hunting Dome. My name is Hrockas Steward, and I own the planet of Castlebourne. Now, you may be wondering why I would record this message, and whether I do it for the other 69,814 domes presently in service. The answer is no. This is only for you. You twelve—forgive me, eleven—contestants have selected our Premium-Ultra Package. This is the rarest of hunts, which will take you on a journey few have traveled. In regular hunts, you would be out in the open, encountering Ambients who are simulating locals from various locales. You will not be doing this. You are on a special mission to find a unique prize.

“It’s important you understand that I am not admitting that such a prize exists. This is confirmation of absolutely nothing. You are being isolated from the other players so your hunt does not influence or interfere with anyone else. Everyone who expresses serious interest in this track experiences the same thing. Or do they? You may never know. You may not even survive. You have become decoupled from your consciousness streams so if you die along the way, your alternate selves will move on with their lives with no memories of these events. Even if you do find what you’re looking for, you might never be able to reveal its secrets. Thousands before you may have succeeded, but never returned to tell the tale. You will receive your next clue on the other side of this door.”

The seams of a door appear on the third wall.

“Oh, and one more thing. Those teams you worked so hard to build? They’re useless. Only one person can win this hunt. Good luck to one of you. Aaaaaaaaaand go!”

The door opens.

Microstory 2753: Dropoffs Only

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The football match started right after this Miracle Brighton woman claimed that she and her team were interested in the same thing in Treasure Hunting Dome. Rage didn’t have a chance to talk to her afterwards, because they were separated into different locker rooms, and then she couldn’t locate her again. Rage says that she’s not entirely surprised. The possibility of an ultimate secret prize isn’t something that she randomly came up with on her own. The rumor has been around since Treasure Hunting Dome first opened. Over the decades, with no proof that anyone ever won it, however, most have lost interest. They assume now that it doesn’t exist. Perhaps the rumor was started by the planet owner, who wanted to build hype, or it started organically. The fact that nothing has ever come of it has only served to intrigue Rage more, and Miracle evidently had the same idea. They try to find her on the local network, but no luck.

They train with each other in the Sandbox warehouse for about another week, but they have to be careful, because their efforts are not being made in secret. If they wanted complete privacy, they would have needed to go to a different planet. No one has ever said anything, but it’s plausible that the Custodians who run the game will use the team’s experience against them. If they get really good, for instance, at driving on the right side of the road, they might end up with a task where they have to drive on the left. And if they practice both, they might not get any driving challenge at all, and it will have been a waste of time. There’s no way to know, which also means there’s no reason to keep doing this indefinitely. They all agree that it’s time to dive in head first.

Before the big day, they check into the Apex Suite at the Palacium Hotel for a good night’s rest. Minotaur was able to secure it for them on short notice because they know someone who knows someone who knows someone. They would have been—

Smoke. Smoke and fire. Elise wakes up to find her room ablaze. She checks her consciousness stream and finds that it’s been severed. Her last upload was three hours ago. If she doesn’t get it turned back on, and dies here, the person who boots up in her backup body won’t really be her. It will only be a copy who thinks she’s Elise. How can this place be on fire? Things don’t catch fire anymore. It just isn’t done.

The door bursts off its hinges, and falls to the floor. Jolanda scrambles back up. She scoops Elise off the bed, and carries her out to the common area. It’s on fire too.

“I’m not streaming!” Elise warns.

“None of us is!” Jolanda is still carrying her as she finds her way across the room.

Zelda is holding a chair, pounding the leg against the edges of the window.

“We’re two kilometers up and that’s security glass!” Elise warns. “It won’t break!”

“Not without some help!” Zelda says. “Stand by Mino, Jo!” She keeps pounding.

“I think you can put me down now,” Elise tells Jolanda.

“We agreed that I would be the one to take you out,” Jolanda replies.

“What?” Elise questions. “What do you mean, take me out?”

Rage appears to their left, holding Colley like he’s also a little baby.

Zelda stops striking the glass, and puts her steampunk goggles on. “Ready?”

“Do it,” Rage orders. She grips Colley tighter. “Everyone turn off your lungs!”

Zelda takes Minotaur in one arm, then reaches out with the other to grip the doorknob of what’s either a bathroom or a closet. She yanks it open. It explodes.

Fire rushes out of the room, and crashes into the window. It’s destroyed instantly, and in that same instant, all six of them are sucked out.

Jolanda never lets go, but now she looks more worried than ever. Even though she has less experience skydiving, she doesn’t have none. They wouldn’t have done this if they weren’t each packing the right equipment, like parachutes and/or wingsuits. Why does she look so scared? She holds Elise tighter with one arm while she maneuvers her other one, hovering her watch above Elise’s face.

It takes a second for Elise to realize what Jolanda is trying to show her. Their altitude is about 35,000 meters and falling. They should not be anywhere near that high. That’s damn near the apex of the whole freaking top. Despite its name, that’s not where the Apex Suite sits. It’s just at the top of the building. She turns her head enough to look back up, but whatever they just fell out of has now been covered by clouds. She can see the other two pairs, though. Wait, four—no, six. Other people are also falling alongside them, presumably from some nearby suite that was also on fire. What is happening?

They keep falling for about a minute before Elise gets her head turned enough to see land below. It’s coming up fast. If Jolanda doesn’t do something soon...

“You can turn your lungs back on!” Jolanda shouts. “Or don’t, you don’t need them! But you do need to hold on tighter, with your arms and legs! I need to pull!”

Elise tightens up and buries her face in Jolanda’s neck. She may be falling in love.

Jolanda pulls the ripcord. The parachute flies out of the back of her belt. Elise’s legs slip off, and begin to dangle, but Jolanda wraps her arm back around her to compensate. After a few seconds, the initial shock wears off, and now they’re just floating. They’re actually going to be okay. They’re going to survive this.

Elise gets another look around now, and starts to run attendance. Rage, Colley, Zelda, and Minotaur; everyone’s here. She looks in the other direction, at the strangers. They’re actually not strangers. She recognizes Miracle’s face. She’s holding the girl who did a backflip on the football pitch. Instead of a parachute, they’re staying aloft via Miracle’s white feathered wings. Which is all sorts of crazy, but it’s clearly working.

As they’re drifting towards the ground, Elise feels something bite at her arm. Some kind of bug? She can’t get a look at it to check. She’ll just have to tough it out. But then she feels another bite on her other arm. She also sees rain begin to fall all around them, which doesn’t feel like a coincidence. She looks up in horror to find holes forming on the parachute above them. The holes are growing as something begins to shred the material. Rain plus stinging plus tearing equals only one thing. Acid rain.

Either someone is trying to kill them, or they’re just having a little fun, and they don’t know that the team isn’t streaming properly. The fact that they were somehow moved to the very top of the dome leads her to believe that this is attempted murder. Hours from now, when the unscheduled data gap triggers emergency resuscitation procedures, her latest backup will wake up with no idea what went wrong. She will have no reason to suspect foul play, but at least some version of Elise will exist. With that, there is a modicum of hope for justice.

After only a few seconds, the parachute can’t take it anymore. It violently rips apart, sending Elise and Jolanda away from each other. Not that it matters. At this height, even their advanced substrates won’t survive it. Elise keeps falling and falling until she runs out of room and splats on the ground.

Microstory 2752: Foul Trouble

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Zelda and Jolanda both do a lot of exhilarating activities. Framed one way, they sit on opposing sides of the spectrum. Zelda likes to lose control. It is absolutely possible to be bad at an extreme sport, but once you learn how to do it, a lot of it involves letting go, and allowing the forces of nature take over. Gravity is a big one for them. Jolanda’s thing is all about taking control. When she’s inside of the car—or when she literally is the car—she makes every decision about where it goes, and what it does. For both of them, the work is very tough and strenuous, and they’re all sports, but a certain kind of sport. What they’re doing right now is exploring one of the other kinds.

“Fellow treasure hunters, please allow me to be the first to welcome you all to...Sportsdome,” Rage says dramatically. It’s a surprisingly unpopular dome. That might be a harsh word to use. It’s not as popular as it would be if you picked the whole 83-kilometer diameter dome off of Castlebourne, flew it to Earth, and dropped it somewhere. The problem with this dome is it’s simply a collection of all sports fields of play. There’s nothing innovative about it except the fact that it’s all consolidated. You can get each one of these games anywhere, and for much cheaper than the energy credits it takes to travel to this world. Basically, if sports are your thing, you’re probably better off staying put wherever you already live. Castlebourne is for niche experiences.

“I played one of the ancient games once,” Colley says. I think it was called bolleyball. And I think I only played it because it rhymed with my name.”

“You’re thinking of volleyball,” Jolanda corrects. “I’ve played a ton of these, but only in VR. A lot of people hate that because it isn’t pure, but if you have a halfway decent physics engine and synaptic integration, there’s really no difference these days.”

“What are we doing here?” Zelda asks. She sounds and looks bored.

“Zel, I would have thought you loved this stuff,” Elise points out.

“There are too many rules,” Zelda complains. “I don’t like rules. I mean, back when dying once meant dying forever, I understood the rules for safety. And I even understand them today for the purposes of continuity, pain aversion, and convenience, but these little sports have such arbitrary rules. They’re all, like, you can’t bounce that with two hands, or, it’s gotta bounce once and inside of these white lines. A lot of the rules have to do with bouncing and dropping. I just don’t find it exciting.”

“We’re not here to be excited,” Rage clarifies. “We’re here to learn the mechanics of gameplay. Some of you use your minds, some of you use your bodies. Traditional sports marry the two. Those rules you hate, Zelda, are part of that. You have to remember where the ball goes and how to get it there. You have to see the obstacles in real time, and find a way around them. Half the audience is cheering you on, half of them wanna see you fail. None of you has done activity on behalf of someone else. Even I, who has usually been part of a team, sees an escape room as a private accomplishment. I share the joy of accomplishment with my team, but my mind leans on what I personally got out of it. Sports athletes can’t think like that. Their sole job is to serve the team, even if that means sitting on the bench during a play and encouraging their teammates. That’s why I signed us up for the Total Lifestyle Experience.”

“What’s the total lifestyle experience?” Elise asks as Rage is walking off. She and the others rush to catch up. “Hey, what’s the total lifestyle experience?” she repeats.

An hour later, the six of them are standing on the grass field. They expected a big fancy arena, but this place looks like it’s been neglected. They’re wearing the same uniform, which is a shirt, short shorts, tall socks, and spiky black shoes. There’s another team of six people here, Combined, they’re standing in a triangle shape, using the wall as a third side. At the top point is a scraggly white-haired man. His shorts are even shorter, and he has a whistle. It’s impossible to not notice his whistle.

He’s been whistling this whole time, apparently communicating with the bots who are running around the field, moving equipment around. Now he finally turns to sneer at the players. “So you think you’re good enough for league football, do ya?” he asks in an English accent. “You’re the sorriest lookin’ excuses for players I ever saw this side of the meridian!” He looks at one of the other team’s members. “Your shirt is on backwards, ya wanka! What’s the matter, ya never worn clothes before?”

The youngish-looking girl tries to pull her elbow in to turn the shirt around, but is too embarrassed to keep going, so she ends up pulling it off all the way.

The boss guy, whatever his job is, shakes his head. “Girls in the league. What are we gonna have to let in next? Billy goats!? I long for the days when men were men!”

One of the other women on the other team begins to walk away.

“See, that’s my point. Women can’t handle the stress of being in a real club. What’s your problem, young lady? That time of the month?” He laughs and slaps Minotaur’s shoulder because they’re standing the closest, expecting them to agree.

“I have a vagina too,” Minotaur snaps back, shutting him up.

The blonde woman comes back with a football. Without saying a word, she tosses it towards the girl who was wearing her shirt backwards. The girl does a backflip, kicking the football behind her. As she lands on her feet, the ball ends up square in the goal, which is halfway down the field. “Any questions?” the blonde asks.

Somehow, the old man shuts up even harder. He does eventually have to continue, though. “I have to go make sure there’s no scheduling conflict with the pitch. In the meantime, you can either run drills or talk about your fee-fees.” He walks off.

The blonde from the other team, who appears to be in charge, smirks at the hunters. “We’ve got you on toast. Who do you even play for? I earn your life in a week.”

“Did you have to look up football slang, or does being an arsehole come naturally to you?” Rage volleys.

“Rage, what are you doing?” Elise questions. “What’s happening here?”

“I told you,” Rage begins. “I signed us up for the total experience. We’re a ragtag group of eclectic misfit underdogs. They’re the jerk pros who everyone knows is gonna win the big game until the last second when the shyest and least confident player on our team uses a random, seemingly unrelated, skill from their life for a complete upset.”

The treasure hunters stare at Rage, still not quite understanding the point of it, but also not getting the point of playing football in the first place, so they might as well lean into it. Elise looks back over at the blonde boss. “Wankuh.”

The blonde laughs. “Not quite how you pronounce it, but I’ll take it. Before we play the big game,” she goes on with airquotes, “you should know that we’re after the same thing. There’s a deeper level to Treasure Hunting Dome. We’re gonna find it first.”

Rage looks extremely surprised and distressed. She clearly had no idea.

The blonde smirks again. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Miracle. Miracle Brighton.”