POV Seth

“This headache of yours? How bad was it?” the Councilman asked.

Headache? Had he mentioned a headache? What an odd thing to focus on. Taken aback, Seth stammered, “Not terrible. No where near migraine level. Functional, but noticeable.” He didn’t like to complain about his aches and pains, it made him feel weak. In this case, the symptom had slipped out, presenting itself for criticism.

Councilman Daamon nodded, demonstrating that he had heard and acknowledged Seth’s account. “Did the headache start before or after you arrived on-site?”

‘Why would it matter?’ He had to think about it. “After, I think.” He wasn’t entirely sure if that was true.

The Councilman waited, giving Seth a moment to consider his answer.

He’d been fatigued at the Gala. The delicacies presented at the celebratory buffet failed to entice his appetite, though he had eaten a food cube earlier that day. Poor sleep and a poorer appetite were likely contributors to his headache. It wasn’t anything new.

He had noticed his headache while in the game, but the dull throb had been with him long before that. “While on transport,” Seth said. “But I just brushed it off as game stress. I didn't get much sleep the night before.”

“You attribute this to nerves?”

“Yes, sir.” Again, the Councilman nodded, acknowledging that he had heard him. “You get nervous before every championship game. Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

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“Regarding your nerves, was this time better or worse than the previous years?”

“If you had asked me that a few days ago, I would have said worse, but this year I’ve had a few extra concerns to deal with. Doctor Yan had a point in bringing them up.” It hurt to give her credit. He felt like he was lying to himself, and that hurt even more. But it was possible, wasn’t it? That all the combined stressors lead to a massive misunderstanding of his situation.

Yet Doctor Yan’s version of events could not explain away the latter half of the game.

“I expect I’ll receive her report before the day is out.” The Councilman tapped a tablet on his desk. “When this situation was brought to my attention, it was done so based on your conviction that what you experienced in the games was of a national threat. Are you telling me you’re wasting my time, Mr. Wright?”

That couldn’t be the whole truth, could it? Who’d set up an inquisition based on the word of a vocal teenager? He was digging for something, and Seth’s testimony was the key. He’d gladly give the Councilman what he wanted, if he knew what it was. “No, sir.” Seth lowered his eyes.

“I’ll ask again, were your nerves worse this year than in previous years?”

He did not know why it mattered so much. “Worse. Much worse.” In previous years, he looked forward to the games, to add one more tick to his survival checklist. This year…

“Dread. I felt dread the instant we won our place in the championship. I can’t explain it, any of it,” Seth said. “There was an incident before the Gala where my team tried to vote me out of the last game. It should be in the report doctor Yan will provide you. What I didn’t tell her was that I had lowered the threshold from a sixty percent approval to forty percent for being benched during the last game. I skewed the odds in their favor, but I also felt responsible for continuing in my leadership role. A captain should be with his soldiers.”

Seth continued, “I thought… I thought the feeling would let go if I gave myself a way out. But it didn’t. The dread wasn’t about me at all. It was about them. It’s like I knew they weren’t coming back. Or they weren’t supposed to come back. Like knowing an attack was coming but not knowing from where. I went with them because that’s what the vote decided. On the one hand, I was relieved. On the other…”

A moment passed as Seth searched for the words. “It was like the war had come, and the time for me to prepare had run out.”

Councilman Daamon nodded. “Continue with your game.”