She was glad when the hover car stopped in front of her apartment complex. Grateful that she didn’t have to walk, but relieved that she could finally get out.

"Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

"You’re welcome," the Med called after her as she walked toward the entrance. "See you around." The doors' scanner detected her biochip and they slid apart automatically. In the doorway, she turned around once more.

"Sure," she said, smiling but thinking, 'Better not.'

Inside, into the drab stairwell. Gray, indestructible walls that no digital artist had yet taken pity on slid past her as she hurried up to the fifth floor, taking two steps at a time. Without hesitation, she slipped sideways through the doors of her apartment. After six years, she knew exactly how quickly they would open.

Now, she was entering another world. Her own world. She stepped between two trees, out into a clearing, and rose into the air. Wave felt as free as the wind as the map below her grew smaller and smaller. She began her flight outside the city, where forested hills stood out. Yellow and red leaves rustling in the autumn breeze and miniature birds traced their paths below her. She passed the city wall and a busy construction crew already working on another ring of the city. Outward over noisy streets, in which the after-work traffic crowded. In the distance, already outside her corridor, the Citadel towered far into the sky. The center and namesake of the city and once the refuge of the last people on earth. From what exactly it had protected them, no one knew today.

Wave zoomed even further out of the projection. The spatiality disappeared, the map flattened, and information popped up. Points of interest, stores, personal markers. Settlements that were too close to the city wall in orange, those that had already submitted applications to the agency in red. Pins marked the positions of her Arena team. Hammer was still at work. So there was no reason for Wave to jump right into the game.

With a wipe of her hand, she banished the map from the bare concrete that was actually under the illusion of her contact lenses.

"Decoration," she commanded. A pastel shade of red took the place of the concrete, filled with feel-good sayings.

With another command, she turned CCR on and music started playing again. What made CCR so special was the absence of the video feed. All the other channels flooded you with images. For Wave, a child of the wilderness, this was like hell. CCR provided only audio. Viewers, in this case, rather called listeners, should be completely captivated by the music and the hosts' voices. And it worked. In a world flooded with visual stimuli and constant advertising, CCR was an oasis of respite for her and others. The number of followers was leaps and bounds ahead of other channels - absolutely deserved. Each of the hosts had its own distinctive style and voice. Some produced music themselves, others impressed with humor or special insider knowledge, such as about high society.

"Have you already left the rocky road of the journey home behind you, are you already on the way or even still at work? Dive into this song, let yourself drift, and forget all your worries." As before in the hover car, Aki’s voice sounded twice. From two directions and offset by milliseconds. His comfortingly deep voice produced the familiar tingling sensation, yet it was strange.

Then it dawned on Wave what must have been the reason. The hearing aid! It was out of sync with her lenses and must be reproducing the sounds incorrectly. She had probably done the Med wrong.

"Synchronization," she tried again. But the hearing aid just didn’t show up on the list.

"Oh crap!" Now she could either turn it off and begrudgingly give up on CCR, or she could perceive the channel as an entirely new hearing experience. Sure, that sounded like a really weak attempt to convince herself, but somehow she had to survive the evening.

Wave sighed, took the last step out of the hallway into her living room, and flopped down on her couch. There she slid around until she found a comfortable position. Arms behind her head, looking up at the ceiling, and her legs pulled up against her so that her knees were pointing toward the ceiling in an acute triangle.

The position was comfortable. She moaned. But by no way she would endure this 'hearing experience' in the long run. Reluctantly, she started the arduous journey through the bureaucracy of her insurance company. Wave fought her way from the start screen that was advertising people, who were surely only half as happy as they looked, to her destination. Wiping aside false forms with her hand, she imagined striking them down with a sword. Until she finally found the right one and requested an appointment at the nearest Med Center. In her mind, she once again thanked the Med for the tip.

CCR was now playing a neo-metal anthem and Wave knew it was time for the Arena, her equalizer after a frustrating day at work. Off the couch and into the 2WSC-743, a two-way synth cylinder. It could both make and remove inanimate matter, and it could fit a whole, standing human inside. Once an image of her body was stored, it could remove anything that didn’t belong. The tiny remnants of pink rescue foam that still clung to Wave’s face and to her hair, particles of dirt that tried to hide in her clothes, or even the clothes themselves. She updated her appearance, added the damn hearing aid, and decided to do a complete cleaning.

With a 'plop', a coin-shaped part of her sleeve disappeared. Clean, pink skin appeared underneath. One by one, more parts of her naked body appeared until, with increasing frequency, the rest of her clothing dissolved as well. Wave felt the hearing aid grow warm under the concert of sounds. A pleasant warmth, not so strong that it hurt. A long, drawn-out beeping announced the end of the cleaning process.

"Arena suit," she instructed the 2WSC-743. The synth, now in a similar manner to how he had removed her clothing, first covered her with millimeter-sized metal plates and then stretched a black full-body suit over them. Another beep.

"Arena mode."

The cylinder filled bubbling with translucent jelly until it reached Wave’s chin. A heartbeat and a slight panic announced itself. The fear of being confined to a small space should the synth suddenly stop working. A second heartbeat followed, and the interior of the synth gave way to a vast stone hall, its walls adorned with tapestries, medieval shields, and torches. The panic faded and Wave took a deep breath.

So, that was the theme of the Arena today. She looked down at herself. Her arms were in dark brown leather gloves, the backs of which were covered with steel plates. The rest of her avatar was similarly armored, and a sword hung at her side. One could not choose which role they slipped into each night, but she would be fine with that. Wave let her gaze wander over the other participants, who were spread around the room in small groups of three to five players. In one of the corners, she spotted Hammer and yet another player, smaller than him, with their back turned to her. The two were engaged in conversation.

Hammer was nearly 6 feet tall and leaning on his namesake weapon. Had he been more muscular, he would have passed for the perfect Viking. Blond, bearded, and fearsome. If one didn’t know his level-headed disposition.

He looked up at her as she came closer.

"Well, if it isn’t our crash pilot," he greeted her with a grin.

"Hi Wave," the second person joined in the greeting in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. She would have recognized Ember from five miles away by that voice alone. "Are you okay?"

"Hi, you two." She greeted Ember with a hug and Hammer with a fist bump. "Got a hearing aid now that’s still acting up a bit. Signed a stupid insurance clause the other day otherwise it would have been fixed by now."

Ember raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I read through those three times by now before agreeing to anything."

Wave wanted to reply that, after all, it had only been ... no, that was eight years ago now that she had finally moved to town. That wouldn’t cut it anymore, and would only start another unnecessary discussion about how all those who didn’t explore the outside world from the security of their desk were savages anyway. Or they ended up as terrorists if they couldn’t accept the way of the city. Just like Waves’s parents had. Instead, she gritted her teeth briefly and put on a weak smile.

"But nothing else happened to you?" Hammer asked.

Wave shook her head, then looked at Hammer’s weapon. "How did you get this? Were you lucky with the RNG?"

"I’ve got connections with the admins," he whispered, winking at her. "Still, it's uncertain if I’ll even be able to use it today, though."

"Hmm?"

"The robots are on strike," he explained.

"They seem to be working after all," Wave noted, drawing her sword and performing a lunge step.

In reality, each of them was controlling a robot that stood somewhere in the depths of the city and simply had the player’s appearance superimposed on it. Scenery and inventory of the Arena were made by synths during the day. The sensors of the robots transmitted everything to the player. Video data and information from the touch sensors. If Hammer swung his weapon in front of her now, she could have even felt the breeze on her face, mimicked by the small plates that were all over her body. If he landed a hit, she would have a bruise the next day. When Wave moved in the cylinder and pushed the plates into the jelly, the movement was sent to the robot in return. The system could pretty much determine how much force a player could actually use, and adjust the robot. So you really had to be fit to keep up in the Arena.

"Everything works fine, here in the lobby," Ember took over the explanation. "But nobody can leave it or enter the battlefield. Supposedly, the robots claim it’s inhumane to be hit with weapons, shot at, or blown up every day." Ember laughed. "As if robots actually had feelings."

"The admins are still checking to see if this is a hacking attack," Hammer interjected. "Until they find the problem, we’re just going to stand around here."

"Once again, this provides fuel for the Arena critics," Ember complained, clenching her fists.

"There are Arena critics?" Wave was astonished. "Do they know what they're missing out on?"

Hammer laughed. "They’re certainly not missing out on anything today."

"Yes, there really are critics," Ember continued. "They think that we are training the robots for real combat missions with our games. Before we know it, someone like Kanter or Akimoto would take over with their army of robots."

"That’s nonsense," Wave noted, earning nodding agreement from Ember. "If one of the big groups was going to do that, it would have happened long ago. They’ve got plenty of resources and influence, don’t they?" Wave knew pretty well what these groups were capable of if no one controlled them. Far enough away from the city, the Council and the Secs didn’t give a damn. "And what would they get out of it? Under a regime, the expansion would collapse. After all, it thrives on competition between the government, the families, groups, and the pioneers. The pioneers, in particular, would be happy to have robots that can dish it out and take it better than they can themselves, and that would also be affordable thanks to free training by us. When I was still traveling with my parents, we had one with us, and ..." Wave fell silent. Crap! Now she had done it again.

Hammer looked at her with pity in his eyes as Ember used the cue for a tease. "Of course." She dragged the words out in a way that was particularly annoying to Wave. "The terrorists." This time she emphasized every syllable.

"Ember!"

Hammer tried to stop her, but she didn’t care.

"The terrorists are another one of the critic's arguments. What would happen if they suddenly got access to the robots? Through a hacker attack, for instance? Then we, the Arena players, would all be partly to blame if the next little war broke out and the Security Corps was overrun by killer robots. Assistants to the terrorists, they would call us. They would do anything to make the player lists public. Some are already compiling them right now. Maybe there’s someone over there storing your bio ID. Look, that man over there ..."

Wave turned up CCR’s volume and washed Ember’s voice away. She liked Ember, but when it came to conspiracy theories or groups that believed in them, she could forget her tact. The fact that her father was a Sec himself, and Ember aspired to a place in their ranks as well, didn’t make things any easier. Wave’s parents had tangled with the Security Corps. No, that was putting it mildly. In the eyes of the city, they were indeed terrorists. But there were always two sides. Then they disappeared. Had simply left their daughter behind.

In her synth, Wave’s eyes grew moist, but fortunately, no one here could see that.

Ember’s lips moved, forming another asynchrony to the shifted sounds in Wave’s head. She closed her eyes, and with the lack of a light source, the projection of the contact lenses faded almost beyond recognition.

"I like the Arena," someone said. "Too bad that I have so little time for it."

Wave opened her eyes and looked around. There was no one standing next to her. Ember was still yakking but now looked at her in irritation. Wave turned off CCR.

"... you okay?" asked Hammer.

"Did you guys hear that, too?"

"What are we supposed to hear, except for Ember, who once again couldn’t restrain herself." Hammer narrowed his eyes and scowled at Ember.

"Sorry," Ember just beeped.

"It sounded like Aki. He said something about the Arena."

"I’m listening to CCR right now," Ember said. "But there’s still music playing. Whether ..." She giggled. "I wonder if maybe he’s running his show by a recording and he’s in fact standing really close to us right now. Hammer, are you actually Aki and just disguise your voice?" She winked at Hammer.

"If I had Aki’s voice, I wouldn’t think twice and change jobs immediately. Wave, did you maybe get hurt worse?"

"I hope not. Two scans didn’t reveal anything except the eardrums."

"Then I’m sure you’re just going crazy." Ember’s winking was getting on Wave’s nerves.

That was so frustrating. Work had been really exhausting again today, then the accident, and now Ember just wouldn’t stop being so ... being just the way Ember was.

"Hey, guys, I think I’m gonna leave ...," Wave began but was interrupted by the Arena tune announcing the start of the first round.