The Commissioner’s questions were a distraction at best. Getting her to focus on details that didn’t matter combined with long wait periods and repetition of similar interviews was designed to open her up to the real line of questions. She was prepared for the real questions, since time was fleeting, they’d have to ask them soon. It was easy to remain on point when she kept to the facts and didn’t elaborate.

It would be as simple as tossing in the question like: What colour were your socks? Followed in quick succession by: What did you use to murder Colonel Mustard? A slip of the tongue, and she’d find herself watching from a distance as the Ghost in the Machine devoured a whole generation of people.

There were other schools in other towns. Most top-world school focused on skills that were needed within the community, as though expecting that when their young returned from the war, they would pick up where they left off, never aspiring for more. The capitol had a fair number of schools to serve its multi-million populace. Only in the capitol could a person find a school dedicated to the study of culture and the arts. The people who came to the Academy were looking for something exclusive to the school; participation in the games namely, but there were other incentives.

Top-worlders could earn residential rights within the safety of the capitol. Marriage and breeding contract access improved in numbers and in quality for young women looking to escape the terrors of war and were willing to offer in their stead the next generation of soldiers. Legacy students benefited from multi-generational networking which aided in the acquisition of high-level jobs, trade deals, and mergers, which meant that the money remained with a dwindling number of people. That was fine, if the war carried on for much longer, there wouldn’t be anything left to barter with. A king who cares not for his people is ruler of nothing.

In essence, the Academy had become a school so entrenched with the elite culture that it had become the place to attend if parents wanted their children to achieve ambitious goals, particularly political ambitions. Astral’s talents were wasted at a school that focused on social climbing. She craved the wilds of the killing fields where she could shed the illusion of humanity and ravage the demon hordes with the ancient power they once feared and respected. Surrounded by so many people, with far too much security looking for an excuse to label her as a threat, she dare not consider using even a snippet of her talents. However, in unleashing her power, she ran the risk of losing herself, which meant her core would win. She couldn’t have that.

‘Who destroyed the pillar to cross the gorge?’

Astral considered her answer carefully. Admitting she or Seth had the resources to blow the pillar would admit that they also had the means to destroy the bridge, which occurred before the make-shift bridge. An idea scratched at the surface of her brain. Did they know about the wards and where they lead?

“The game was a strange experience.” She stared off into the distance caught on the wave of an idea. “It reminded me of a training simulator. I played with one once when grand-father toured some of the training facilities down south. It was a low grade system. The graphics were terrible. Ultimately how it worked was they would place a subject into stasis while running the program. In theory, the program used a lucid dreaming technique to prepare the soldier for war. Well…except for their bodies. I was only under for 3 days, but there’s a familiarity to the sensation.”

She leaned in, her legs tucking under her as she stared into the man behind the machine. “You see, I’m very good at taking control of my dreams. It’s what qualified me to go through a sampling of the program. Just imagine the things a person can do when they realize that nothing is real and that with a single thought, the environment will provide.”

She leaned back again, returning her gaze to some arbitrary spot on the wall. “It’s a fascinating game. With the level of technology needed to control the randomness of the players actions, I have to admit, I wondered who would want to blow the bridge, especially as Seth and I would have been on the verge of crossing, had we not found an alternate path.”

‘Answer the question, Lady Daamon.’

She thought about the ancient bridge that had been reinforced over time with layers of patchwork. She focused on the memory of watching the bridge explode while she and Seth hugged the canyon wall, too far away to have been responsible. The sensors should read her answer as honest.

“As I’ve explained to your previous colleagues, to my knowledge, our people were not given orders to remove the bridge from play. Nor do I have any idea who might want to. I’m happy to investigate the issue, given my proximity to the situation. As you can imagine, I take attempts on my life…personally.” Her tinted lenses hid the penetrating gaze that settled on the automaton.

‘Your lack of cooperation is noted.’

*****

Astral walked along the main road as she had every night since her arrival, only a few hours earlier, in the wrong gear, and without her cloaking spell; a spell she couldn’t use openly with such heavy surveillance on the populace.

She peered down the road and strained her hearing for the gentle hum of the vehicle she had called. Where was her plan B? Granted it needed time to reach her if it was leaving the shuttle base. It was for the best that the stadiums weren’t equipped with a private port. A shared transportation system that was tied into the game’s infrastructure would have given the Ghost in the Machine significant access to the campus. Regardless, she had expected at least one shuttle pod to have lingered by the entrance. She supposed with sunlight fading, the battery life on the vehicles required frequent recharging.

If her ride didn’t arrive soon, there was no way she’d make it to her destination on foot.

Security drones were hovering overhead, gliding toward the stadium with its luminescent three-hundred and sixty degree view recording every detail.

The numbness in her left hand told her that the drone had scanned her for student profile. For now she passed inspection. She was allowed to wander freely. Security forces will not be called. At least until it made its way back and found her working her way down the road that took an easy fifty minutes to walk at an average pace.

‘You had to be difficult’ she chided herself.

She frowned. ‘I was pleasant-ish! I told them the truth. Mostly. They were the ones being difficult.’

She hung her head as she dragged her feet down the deserted road. Honking drew her attention. The light on a nearing one-person shuttle blinked at her. A normal person would have been blinded by the attention seeking high-beam, but not her. In the sleeping glow of the naked late autumn trees, she saw the machine slow to a stop.

She smiled, careful planning and anticipating annoying variables has paid off. She had booked her shuttle weeks ago as soon as she had learned the date of her game. She knew she’d be participating; Seth wanted to see her in action in a territory that he had dominated. If he applied himself to survival at the level he involved himself in the game, he wouldn’t have found himself in the medical ward this evening.

Even if the Gaming Commission hadn’t taken a special interest in her activities, she would have needed to race Seth to the Educational Towers. Not wanting Seth to piggy-pack on her plan, resulting in what was sure to be a gut wrenching race that would entertain the Academy’s citizens for a few days, she had reserved all of the vehicles across the entire campus. It cost her a small fortune, but it was worth it if it meant preventing Seth from reaching his objective. She climbed in, swiped the gold bracelet graphed to her wrist and shut the protective bubble. The cart sped down the deserted road along the navigation strip embedded in the pavement.

She tugged at her jacket, testing it’s give against the pain in her arms and back. The first arm hurt the most as the tenderness in her shoulder tightened in her neck, fighting against the action. She rubbed the knot in her neck away, slid the other arm out and folded the clothes neatly in her lap.

The cart came to a stop as she pulled off the last of the sensor strips from her torso. Her black shirt and trousers hid the worst of the damage. She dreaded the sight of the yellowing bruises that waited to greet her. Sleeping was going to be an exercise in finding the position that caused the least amount of pain.