Chương 39: The Roads We Choose

Standing in yet another line, Hector looked around the cavernous lobby of the central RMC administration building. If the size of the pit hadn't been enough to tell him he'd underestimated the size of the mining operation going on in Redwick, then the building he stood in would have finished the job. It was an enormous concrete and plasteel structure built into the top third of the mountainous mine-tailing ridge.

It sat there like a hulking gargoyle, looking down over the wound they'd carved year-by-year, truck-by-truck, out of the Martian surface. What made the lobby impressive wasn't the high ceiling or the expansive marble floor—it was the single hundred-meter expanse of diamond-glass that gave an unfettered panoramic view of the pit. Yes, the mine was on Mars, but the view into that great hole was another level of alien—like staring into an abyss that bridged one dimension with another.

Hector got so lost in the view that he hardly noticed the passage of time. When the woman at the counter called him over, the person behind him had to give him a nudge to get him moving. He blamed his aura system and the work it was doing to his corpus vivum.

"Registering for the fight?" the young lady asked. She wore an RMC uniform, but hers was more of a jumpsuit than the laborer's coveralls Mira had worn.

"Already registered. Supposed to get evaluated for, uh, bracket tiers."

"Right! Just look here"—she tapped a tiny lens embedded in her counter—"and we'll get you seen." Hector followed her finger to the lens with his gaze, and she nodded almost immediately.

"Looks good. There's just the matter of the entry fee: 500 bits."

"What?"

"Yeah, they didn't tell you when you registered? Gotta pay an entry fee today before noon in order to get a spot in the brackets." Hector sighed. Go ahead, Evie. //Payment issued! // The woman's tablet chimed, and she smiled.

"Looks like you're all set! See that hallway on the far side of the window?" She pointed, and Hector nodded.

"Walk that way, go through the double-doors at the end. That's the convention hall. You'll see the folks doing the evaluations in there."

"Thanks." He hesitated, then asked, "By the way, what's the prize?" She chuckled and pointed at something behind him. Hector turned to see a poster on the wall highlighting the prizes for the tournament: Every fighter wins 1, 000 bits per victory! Every fighter earns one week of priority day-labor contract placement. Every fighter will receive complimentary RMC health services for injuries sustained. Bereavement insurance automatically applied! Payout to next of kin is 5000 bits!

Advanced-tier Championship prizes: 1 st Place: 20, 000 bits 2 nd Place: 15, 000 bits 3 rd Place: 10, 000 bits While he read the poster, the registration lady said, "It's pretty fair, all things considered. Win one fight, and you'll double your investment." Hector nodded absently and walked toward the distant hallway. As he went, he gave the people walking to and fro or mingling in the grand lobby a careful once-over. If some of those men and women were fighters, he wouldn't have been surprised.

There were quite a few hard -looking individuals. Some were heavily auged, some had just a cybernetic limb here or there, and some had no sign of any chrome. As he walked along the expansive window, passing by the folks peering down into the abyss, he felt more than one aura, too. When he reached the convention hall, he was again impressed by the size of the space. It was set up like a sports arena, with tiered seating along the sides and four different fighting rings down on the central concrete floor.

They were arranged in a square, and the corner posts were all clearly labeled with numerals one through four. Down in the space between the bottom row of seats and the rings, several tables were set up where Hector could see other fighters being evaluated. On his way down, he passed a man who looked more synth than human—two mechanical arms, a chrome skull plate, armored dermal plates at his neck, and fully mechanical red crystal eyes that merged with the flesh of his face in puffy, scarred seams.

He glanced at Hector and immediately dismissed him, continuing on his way up the ramp to the exit. One of the tables was free when he arrived, and a man wearing a white lab coat that somehow made him seem more official waved Hector over.

"Hey there! Here for the evaluation?" Hector nodded. The man, young and open-faced with soft, rounded cheeks, picked up a crystal-glass tablet and tapped on it as he waved a blue, metallic rod up and down before Hector, obviously performing some kind of scan.

"Okay, we'll start with a few basic questions. Can you describe any cybernetic or bionic augmentations you might have?" You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Just my eyes and ears." The man squinted at Hector, peering into his eyes.

"Just a retina job?"

"Yeah."

"I'm picking up a cranial implant. Some kind of memory device?" Hector nodded.

"Yeah—my AI."

"Ah, gotcha. No problem, no problem. Okay, how would you rate your fighting experience?" Hector shrugged.

"I've fought a lot."

"So, have you won any tournaments? Any titles I'd recognize?" Hector shook his head.

"No, but trust me when I say you don't want me fighting in the entry-level tiers."

"Right, right, noted. And how would you defend yourself against combat synths or augmented humans?"

"Aura."

"Ah, you've got an aura system?"

"Right." The man set the blue rod down on the table and walked to a neighboring table, picking up a black metallic ball.

"Need to borrow the resonance gauge." The lady working at that table glanced Hector's way, arching an eyebrow, but quickly turned back to the fighter she was evaluating. Hector could guess the device was some kind of augury—rare rift alloys fused into a resonance core, threaded with micro-resistors and pressure channels designed to translate aura flow into readable data.

Returning to the table, the evaluator said, "I'll need you to hold this in your hand and then channel as much aura as you can safely handle into one of your abilities or boosts. Can you do that on demand?" Hector would have thought the question was stupid, but he'd seen aura users who had only reactive skill-sets and very little control over their systems, so he just nodded and held out his hand. The man dropped the heavy, cold ball into his palm.

He was pretty sure he'd be able to handle five aura in his strength boost after his recent level, but he wasn't going to risk burning his pathways right before a tournament. With a brief concentration, he sent four aura into his Strength Boost. As the rush of aura sent waves of euphoria tingling through his scalp, the world brightened, and his body swelled. Crimson fire danced along his shoulders and arms, and his eyes blazed with the intensity of the boost.

The black orb instantly warmed in his hand, vibrating subtly, and the evaluator's tablet beeped rapidly.

"Oh, well, hello! I haven't seen clarity and pressure readings like this all day!" He stepped back, peering at his tablet as Hector's aura flickered and faded.

"Very nice flow, uh—" His eyes darted over his display.

"—Hector. Hampered by relatively low volume, though. The meter is pegging you at level ten. Is that right?"

"Close enough." Hector set the augury device on the table and folded his arms.

"So what tier?"

"Well, we're only doing three tiers. I'm going to take you at your word about being experienced and place you in the mid-tier brackets. You'll have a randomized placement there, and have to fight two or three times. If you win, you'll get moved up and placed in the high-tier brackets." Hector looked left and right, noting the custodial staff still working to set up and clean.

"What time you think my first fight will be?"

"Oh, well, the low-tier fights start at five. I think the mid-tier ones are scheduled for six. That's how fast they crank out those early fights." Hector nodded.

"Thanks."

"Brackets will be posted by two or so. Locker rooms are through the doors behind ring four."

"And the cafeteria?"

"Oh, back to the lobby, then down to sublevel six." The man smiled, setting his tablet on the table.

"Anyway, best of luck, Hector. We've got a few folks waiting." He nodded over Hector's shoulder, toward a crowd of potential fighters that had gathered at the base of the ramp. Hector nodded, offered a brief wave, then turned and walked past the fighters, angling his way to the exit. He would have rather been placed directly in the high-tier brackets, but he supposed mid-tier was better than low; besides, a couple of easy fights would earn him some bits.

Passing through the doors into the main corridor, he made his way back to the main lobby, then followed the signs to a bank of elevators. It wasn't yet noon, which he supposed was standard for "lunchtime," but he figured he'd check out the cafeteria, anyway. His body needed nutrition, and he could snack and bide his time if Mira wasn't there yet. There wasn't much of a crowd by the elevators, and with eight to choose from, he didn't have to wait at all.

If he hadn't asked for directions already, he would have found the directory in the back of the car helpful, but he just selected sublevel six and waited as the car dropped into the depths of the mountain. A short walk down a brightly lit concrete hallway brought him to a junction, and he followed the sign that read "Cafeteria."

The hum of conversation and the sounds of dishes clanking heralded the space before he arrived, and when he paused at the wide doorway to peer into the table-filled hall, he immediately saw what Mira had meant by there being a place to eat with a view. The cafeteria floor was tiered, falling away from the doors in several levels, and in the distance, on the bottom tier, he could see an expansive window that afforded an even closer, bird's-eye perspective of the pit than the one upstairs.

Many of the tables were occupied by groups of employees, but down there, along that seamless diamond-glass window, he saw that most of the tables were small—made for one or two diners. His gaze was immediately drawn to one such table with a single occupant. As he stared, Evie got the hint and zoomed in his optics, providing a perfect view of Mira. The young woman sat with her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her knuckles as she peered out into the expansive void.

She bore a wistful expression, her eyes big and full of unspoken thoughts. Was she thinking about how small she was? Was she thinking about her life and the daily grind of working at RMC? Her role didn't seem so bad—not like the poor bastards working in the pit. Was she thinking about Hector, wondering if love had come at last? Had it been a twist of fateful chance that brought them together at the shuttle stop?

Hector knew he was projecting, putting thoughts into her head that likely didn't belong, but he couldn't help it, and guilt began to clench its cold fist around his heart.

"Pardon me, sir," a cultured, well-articulated voice said from behind him. Hector turned to regard a gray-fleshed synth wearing a finely tailored suit. Unlike some of the other synths he'd seen working for RMC, this one had a full synthetic face—eyes, mouth, and everything else.

"Hello, sir. My employer would like a word with you."

"Your employer?"

"Mr. Janus, sir." The synth glanced toward the cafeteria.

"If it's your lunchtime, I'm happy to wait. My employer will be available for more than an hour." Hector turned back to the cafeteria and let his gaze drift down to Mira sitting alone at her table again. He watched as she picked up a coffee cup and took a sip. Is that tea or coffee? Something else, maybe? Hot chocolate? He liked the idea of her drinking hot chocolate while she waited. How long will you wait before you get yourself some food?

"Sir?" Hector sighed, shaking his head.

"No, I can eat later. Let's go meet your boss."