The Dangers of Winning the Game

Chapter One

In a bulbous classroom at the Secondary School of Axion as several hundred students lined up for their morning game, a scuffle broke out. The problem started with Xavier Mayor. Somebody stood too close. This girl wasn't part of his group. 

"Move." Xavier made some demeaning feathering motions with his hand. "Go somewhere else. I don't want you here."

Xavier strutted like the proud prince of the class. His face shouted masculinity from his square jaw, his protruding cheekbones, and his deep-set eyes. His tailored physique rose up taller than most. His shoulders were broad and strong, tapering down to his unnaturally thin waist. And no one could match his powerful augmented quads. He always won the game.

The girl in the wrong place had none of those advantages. She didn't fit with that juiced and augmented crowd. In fact, her natural features appeared downright miniature next to Xavier. She cowered as she refused.

"No. I'm not moving."

She wouldn't even look up at him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at the floor.

"The thing is, I'm good at math." Her voice sounded nervous and high. Her lower lip quivered when she spoke. She pointed up to a platform about halfway up to the high-bay ceiling of the classroom. Various stations floated above, scattered around the room, such as math, history, science, language, and government. "I want to be here underneath the math station. Anyway, you don't own this spot. I'm going to stay here."

Gasps sounded all around her. 

"I told you to move, proton." Xavier emphasized the slur 'proton' by spitting the word in the girl's face. He scowled as he stooped down to yell at her. It seemed like he swelled to twice her size. "Now spin off."

One of those who gasped nearby was Zara Vals. Zara had barely slept that week, staying up late into the night, practicing, studying, and then more practicing. The class was supposed to be lined up in a single file, ready for the start of the game. However, sleep deprivation had lowered her inhibitions, making her punchy, bold, and reckless. Before she thought about what she was doing, she slipped out from where she had been standing and butted in between Xavier and the girl.

"All those expensive brain implants and that's the best you can do?" Zara told Xavier. "Spin off? I'd demand your money back. You should look for some better models. Maybe you need an update? Did you check for recalls?"

She poked a finger in his face, his tailored masculine face with its flawless skin and its impeccably square jaw. "Why don't you spin off?"

Xavier surrounded himself with his groupies, all of them gawking with incredulity at the interchange. One giggled nearby, "She said what to him?"

Another, "Oh my."

And a third, "I want to watch this."

Sure enough, with effortless motion, Xavier shoved Zara so hard that she slammed down on the floor, her tailbone making a horrible thud, arm and legs sprawling like a joke before the entire class.

Conversations stopped. Others might have wanted to say what Zara did, but nobody dared. When their eyes fixed on Xavier, it was with nothing but the highest admiration, watching every move, wherever he went, whatever he did, because he was the winner and the teacher rewarded winners.

"Quiet."

The teacher appraised the class. It rose above them like a tall and upright insect, with six arms and two legs, narrow black rods for its limbs. Each arm had two elbows and each leg had three knees, with spherical motors for its joints. When it flew throughout the room, it left behind a faint odor of ozone. 

"I want everybody to be quiet." Its red sensors examined them like glowing eyes from its stick-like head, hovering above them. "Zara Vals, you are not lined up."

And then Zara got the whip—a hot knife stabbed into her forehead, splitting her head wide open, slicing down through her neck and down into her chest. It wouldn't leave a physical mark, but the pain felt very real. The memory of it lasted.

"I expect you to line up next time."

Dutifully, the students formed a straight line of green and gold jumpsuits. Everybody was required to wear the same school uniform, pushing and shoving for the most advantageous starting position in the game.

Zara squeezed back in line next to a girl named Samara Piekny. Samara had been molded from her birth by a prominent skeletal artist. Her appearance spoke not only of perfect design but also the wealth to pay for it, while her augmented muscles, brain implants, and sensory improvements gave her skills far above anything Zara could muster.

Samara glared intently at Zara. "Is that a burn mark?" She pointed to a mottled spot on Zara's left cheek about the size and shape of a baby's handprint. "Don't tell me." She covered her mouth with both hands in an exaggerated display of shock. "Were you born in the public incubators?" Then she laughed, a loud and exaggerated laugh, glancing over to Xavier before turning again on Zara. "So why didn't you get it fixed?"

"Because I don't want a fake plastic face like yours."

The game would be a competitive exercise, pitting each pupil against their peers in a contest of both intelligence and physical stamina. Zara wanted to win, of course. She had stayed up nights studying so she could win. But now, after the interchange, she especially wanted to beat Xavier and Samara.

While they waited for the start, Samara stomped on Zara's right shoe with her stiletto heel.

"Ouch." Zara hopped on her left, holding the foot.

"Oh, what's wrong?" Samara said. "Did you stub your foot? Well, your shoes look stupid. Aren't those old Gravedads? Nobody wears those anymore. Do they work? They look too clunky."

Samara wore sleek and fashionable high-heeled shoes made by Stygs, which boasted the latest in supernatant antigravity balance.

"If I got shoes like yours," Zara said, "would they throw in a fake personality too?"

A blast of red light blossomed above them like a giant mushroom cloud, signaling the start of the game.