"I am Unnamed. My title is dead."
In the World, the Planet, and the Base, it's either be number one or die.
The alternative to dying, however, is to become an Unnamed. Turning eighteen means that you will compete for your name. Come out on top, you...
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The Runner wakes up, his stomach growling more than he had ever thought possible. He immediately gets up and scarfs down whatever is placed in the refrigerator in the kitchen.
After that, he showers and starts his daily warm-up. Six days until the Competitions, and he still doesn't feel like he's strong enough yet. He wants to beat the Elite Runner—it's one of his top priorities, it has been since he first became a Runner. It's one of those things that everyone strives for, no matter what Category you are in. But with everything going on in the Runner's life, it's like he's hit a brick wall. He doesn't know how to get past it. If he races the Elite Runner and wins, he could end up dead. If he doesn't win, he would be one of the Unnamed forever.
The world outside is hot and sticky, and the scorching the air makes it hard for the Runner to breathe as he runs to his Master's mansion, moving his legs faster than a run. He sprints. Whether or not it's a good idea, he weaves his way in between the buildings, sucking in deep, hot breaths. Sweat begins to drip from his face and onto the ground, the jacket covering his skin soaked. He runs up the steps, skipping a step each time as he ascends higher and higher. The doors open easily as he runs in and stops in the doorway, jogging in place. His mouth is dry and his throat stings, but he can't stop. He needs to keep going. He can't give up yet. He can't stop running until Competition day.
Twelve more days.
Mortimer walks up to the Runner quickly, and tells him to stop jogging.
"I can't," the Runner says quietly, afraid someone might hear him talking back. "I have to keep training."
"Which is what we're about to go do. First, you need water and a towel. Come, come."
Mortimer the Elite Solver waves the Runner in the direction of the kitchen. The Runner follows him silently, his muscles crying out for rest.
They stop at the sink as Mortimer grabs a cup and fills it with clear water from the smaller faucet on the right hand side of the large sink. The Runner takes a few sips before he starts to stretch lightly, alternating between the two for about five quiet minutes. A girl walks up to the old man and hands him a small paper filled with pencil marks and words the Runner can't read from where he stands. The Elite Solver looks it over carefully, seeming to forget the world around him. He finally nods and hands the paper back to the girl.
"It's good," he says, nodding again. "Just make sure you have the right measurements to build it the day of the Competitions. And remember that there are going to be people around you building other things as well. Do it quick but right. You don't want to waste the first round. It only gets harder from there."
The girl nods, smiling. Her Builder's jacket stands out against her ivory skin as the Runner tries to figure out what she's building, just to keep his mind off of what is to come of his future.
"Did you get your instructions from the envelope this morning?" The Elite Solver asks her, seeming as if he had forgotten the Runner was even there.
