Chapter 5- Arena

  I arrive at the docking alcove distraught and out of breath, two minutes before my classmates land on the Lotus drop pad from above.

  The platform lowers into place, and the class spills out of the craft bus. Their gazes immediately scan the rocky, moist mountainside interior until they see the mouth’s opening, which gives them a high perspective on the Six Scape Mountains—Vikson’s most acclaimed and prized life-work.

  The Lotus headquarters is located deep in the north, past all the forests and the Alps. Vikson chose this specific area to dedicate most of his youthful years to excavating the cliff sides. The interior is carved hollow, allowing occupancy while simultaneously maintaining the building's exterior, polished smooth and flat, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape—three buildings on both sides of a plunging waterfall, all connected one hundred feet underground. From afar or above, unless you have a trained eye, you’ll blindly fly over the site.

  The Six Scape Mountain has received numerous awards over the years for its attractions, innovation, creativity, and meticulous design, which have enabled the complex structure to remain intact for thirty years after its completion. Factoring out natural disasters, physicists and geologists have claimed this structure would survive for eons on its own, quickly becoming an addition to one of the world's wonders.

  It should’ve been opened and toured to the public, but Vikson is too proud of his work to leave it alone for the world. So he established it in Lotus’s main headquarters for his own use. The people can view it all they want after I die, he’d said.

  Despite that, he dedicated a section for public display, showcasing Lotus’s newest and famous techs and gadgets. Tour Andra leads the class into the building, crossing the panoramic view of the whole facility, and onto the exhibit floor where they can test out the new velm, Andra, neuro-dream mod, and other interactives. I give another sweep at the older models they don’t produce anymore and spot Qonni down the aisle of a closed-off corridor.

  She’s staring through the square window frame, examining the contents behind the locked door.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” I say, gesturing to the guardrail of a Keep Out sign she clearly hopped over. She needs to get out before Vikson sees anyone protruding in his private space.

  We haven’t spoken a word since her gala. I noted the engagement ring on her finger, which has prompted congratulations over the last two weeks, and I try to do the same, but the words don’t come.

  Her brows lower, jarred at the sight of me. “Well, maybe if your tour isn’t so boring, I would’ve stayed with the group.”

  I glimpse into the window she’s staring into. An overstock room for Lotic-shards, shelves full of them, their energy maintained by the insulated magnetic wall, their bright colors pulsing in the dark.

  “And these old shards entertain you?” I ask.

  “Haven’t seen these in a long time,” she replies, folding her arms. “The new energy fuels don’t sparkle like this anymore. Are you selling them?”

  “No, we need them for old machines.” I unhook the chain, letting her back into the exhibition floor. “Drills are starting.”

  *

  After the last drill, the academy received several complaints from concerned parents, many of whom had signed petitions to pause the course. But that would tarnish the Academy’s reputation, since drills are one of the most exclusive programs Lotus has to offer. Not every academy in Bowen has access to test subjects such as Infectants, let alone Mutants. So until Vikson finds the culprit and puts an end to the threat in the Void, he’s permitted us to use the Arena. Most, if not all, of my time is spent here, testing Dr. Breena’s newest tech and military grade weapons.

  After descending four hundred feet underground, we spill out of the elevator and into the Arena’s lobby. The walls are in a brutal, sleek slate, cool underlights from the low ceiling. All the chairs have been removed to allocate our four-by-five assembly file. Cerena stands at the end of the room with her portable projector, in front of two large windows that overlook the capacious Arena. Empty except for the occasional wee light between the tiles’ crevasses. The base of the surfaces is scarred from previous simulation runs.

  “Today’s drill will be slightly different, as you can all see,” Cerena starts. “Different equipment and gears. But before I continue with the agenda, I need you all to roll up your sleeves for a syringe shot.”

  I pull up my sleeve and show my forearm. I've done this many times before, but half the class is hesitant to comply.

  “What’s in the syringe?” Qonni asks, casting me a weird glance.

  “SNO,” Cerena explains and gestures to the window behind her. “You see, the Arena is made up of Nanophene, tiny synthetic atoms that mirror real life. Synthetic Reality is another term. The drill is fully configured and ready for you all. But you’ll need your velms to see, and the SNO to interact and feel the sensation.”

  “And what is it exactly that we’re feeling?” Bison asks.

  “Pain,” the instructor simply answers. “Only when you are hit, of course, with the synthetic weapons, the SNO in your system will send false signals to your brain to mimic the real sensation. For example: getting punched; getting kicked; getting shot; breaking a bone.”

  “But if someone punches us, wouldn’t we feel the pain anyway?” Raven points out.

  “Not with your new gears. A new layer has been added, and will absorb any real forces. God forbid we send you children home bruised and broken. But in the Arena, there are no limits. So for this drill, we can step it up a notch and allow real combat.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The class exchanges unsure glances. We’ve never been allowed to fight outside of sparring mats, and most definitely not during drills. Even in practice, we pause just before striking our opponents in critical areas.

  “So if someone decides to push me into a landmine,” Raven starts, casting a quick glare in Qonni’s direction, “I’ll feel every inch of my body tearing apart?”

  “I sure do hope so,” Qonni mutters under her breath.

  Cerena purses her lips, unsure how to answer, which the class takes as a silent confirmation.

  “I don’t want an injection,” Raven exclaims. She reels back in line.

  “What if someone shoots me in the head?” Bison asks. “Will I die, or do I bear the pain of my brain exploding?”

  Then another student asks about fire. “I don’t want to burn!”

  “I don’t want to get stabbed!”

  The instructor shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them. “I assure you all, there won’t be a higher pain level than your mere punches. And there won’t be any bombs, fire, or knives in the Arena today. We’re starting small. And no one is getting shot in the head.” Bison drops his hand. “The same sparring rule applies in the Arena, you do not aim for the head, do I make myself clear?”

  The RN Andra steps forward. Her indoctrination certification is posted on her back. All Nurse Andras have gone through multiple exams, the same way doctors and nurses are tested before they’re released into hospitals and other medically licensed facilities. She begins administering the shots with a needle from her finger. A quick thrust to the vein, painless as a pinch.

  When the substance finally circulates evenly, we unfurl our velms. Magically, the rest of the lobby and Arena appear. We’re no longer in the barren lobby, well, it is the same one, but one with creamy cushioned walls, diamond gridded with gold frames. The floor is carpeted in wine, and it feels like carpet beneath my soles when it was rough stone a second ago. Vases decorate the corners, and paintings hang at eye level. A tiered chandelier overhead. With a brush of my fingertip, the glass chimes and fractured lights flicker over everyone’s visor.

  “Holy shit,” Bison says, grabbing the chandelier piece with his hand. “I’m really tripping.”

  Raven tests her own theories by giving Bison light punches to the arm. “Can I break your bones?”

  “Only if you let me break yours.”

  “No one’s breaking anything yet,” Cerena hushes, then waves our attention to the window behind her. The setting has changed, the gray box gone. Pastel wallpaper wrapped around the interior instead, a night sky mural on one of them. Building blocks littered on the ground with dollhouses, stuffed animals, race tracks, and mini figurines. A children’s room. “This is your objective today: There are two pieces of a whole moon inside the Arena. There are two puzzles you must find within the room, and once you complete the puzzle, it rewards you with a piece. The first team to find both pieces and return them to their rightful place will be crowned today’s winner. ”

  “Team?” I ask.

  “A pair, to be exact. You and your partner against everyone else.”

  The class cranes their neck, searching for a potential ally.

  “Now, other than melee combat,” Cerena continues. She swipes a bar on her coding panel, and a paint gun appears in her hand, while a water gun appears in the other. “You’ll find these and other items scattered around the Arena and inside chests. The paint gun will stun you and will require your teammate’s help to unfreeze. If you and your partner are hit, you are both automatically eliminated and returned to the lobby. If hit with the water gun, it will slow you down for a few seconds. Both weapons will do a decent amount of damage. You will all start with a full health bar of a hundred. If you let it reach zero, you are eliminated.”

  “Ahh, battle royale,” Bison says. “I know a thing or two about that.”

  “The goal is to return the pieces to the sky,” Cerena echoes. “Not eliminate other players, though that might help with your goal.”

  “How will we be graded?” Qonni asks.

  “Ten points to each player on the winning team. None for everyone else.”

  Half the class groans in disappointment. Usually, we receive an average of sixty per drill.

  “Need I remind you all what drills are for?” Cerena says, clearing her throat. “To prepare you all for the dangers of the real world. To equip you all with the knowledge of defense. You can never predict when another devastating Outbreak will occur. These drills are designed to train your physical strength and health, as well as critical thinking, adaptability, resource management, and other essential skills required for survival. And most importantly, you’ll have all the skills ready for your mandatory civic service.”

  The room grims. No one likes to be reminded of our service—a requirement for every Carrier, men and women above the age of eighteen. Non-carriers are exempt from duty because of their vulnerability to the virus, making them a greater threat to the militia than any productive contribution. By law, all Carrier students are required to receive some weapons and military training starting at the age of thirteen, learning basic combative and defensive skills and hand-eye coordination.

  At Lotus Academy, the top twenty students of each year are enrolled in drills, where they further develop their skills by replicating threats beyond the usual ones. They put us in dire situations like bomb threats, hostage situations, and robbery, since we’re more likely to encounter these cases than any Outbreaks.

  “So as elementary as this drill might seem,” the instructor continues. “I want you all to take this very seriously. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” says the class in unison.

  “Good. You all have exactly sixty seconds to choose a partner and stand next to them when you are ready.”

  Before Cerena can finish her sentence, Qonni shoulders past me and reels Bison into her arm. “My team,” she demands.

  Bison gives me a look. He’s my usual go-to for pairs, and she knows that. He’s large and fit, the perfect companion for a drill like this.

  Raven sighs. “Can we get a countdown next time so people don’t steal?”

  “Want to be on my team?” I offer. Raven probably thought of taking Bison, too, but Qonni beat the two of us to it.

  “Wait,” Bison says, hands on his hip. “Neither of you will fight for me? I thought you guys wanted me!”

  Raven and I exchange a shrewd smirk.

  She places herself to my right as my official partner, then jabs at Bison. “Have fun with her.”