The top 5 teams were brought up to the stage, where they were subjected to the combined mass of regrets from the losing teams. The announcer congratulated Hunter and the other four teams, and informed them that the next round would start in 2 and a half hours.
17 disappointed teams left the stadium, while Hunter and the others stayed behind for the next 30 minutes to answer questions from journalists who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Hunter wanted to find a way out of speaking with them, but there was no avoiding it. Having taken the top spot of the second round, he had a lot of attention centered on him. It felt suffocating, he was constantly worried about saying something wrong.
When everyone had been further away during the testing phase for his force construct, he’d been nervous, but it was manageable. But now, with all these people standing right in front of him, shoving microphones in his face and yelling over each other— with the flashing lights from the cameras and the knowledge that he’d probably be seen all over the city, maybe even the world, he felt like he was being forced to tread a tightrope across The Journeyer's cavern, with winds buffeting him from all sides.
The only thing he wanted to be worrying about was either finding some coffee, or a place to close his eyes for an hour.
“Hunter, are you really the son of Gideon Koar?”
Hunter turned away from the journalist and asked the attendant nearest him to help him leave. The camera flashes increased in frequency, they clicked like a horde of insects. The attendant looked confused, flapping her mouth like a fish out of water, but he gave her the most desperate look he could. He must have managed to gain some pity, because she made a call in her portable radio. Soon, the indignant call of protests emerged from the back of the assembled journo’s, and a small path emerged for him to walk through as two burly men— who seemed to enjoy their job— gently pushed the crowed away from each other. With the way cleared, he hurried away from the press room and headed towards the stadium’s exit.
The stadium’s lobby was full. Most of the losing teams were there or just outside the building, chatting with families. A lot of people approached him, apologizing for any offense they may have caused him over the last couple of days— that caught Hunter off guard and not in any way that pleased him.
Suddenly, they seemed so small to him. Like children in bigger bodies.
Maybe that wasn’t rational, maybe it was because it he was tired from the round, but as soon as the apologies left their mouth, he couldn’t take them seriously and wanted nothing to do with them. Was it bad form, to ignore their apologies? Perhaps.
Were he not so exhausted, he could feel incredibly angry. Now he felt like nothing but their own mirror image. They had dismissed him for no reason, following the opinions of the crowd. None of them had taken the time to get to know him, to understand the potential he had.
They were all mindless, as far as he was concerned. They were drones, followers of the herd. He didn’t want anything to do with them.
Other teams came to shake his hand, congratulating him on his performance so far, and it felt way too similar to being surrounded by a bunch of ambitious journalists.
Some wanted to chat with him about his battery or his Force construct. He told him that he was incredibly busy and wanted some time to himself before the next round. Most were understanding, some where disappointed, and some were offended— but why was it any of their business how he spent the next few hours? What was it with these people?
Then it dawned on him.
He saw them comparing themselves, not only to him, but the others around them. Showing off shoes, giving sideways glances when their friends weren’t looking, always assessing. Many of them wore high quality clothing, and were well groomed. They spoke like they’d had expensive educations— they had that accent, the tilt of the head, the particular words they used. These were a bunch of wealthy brats who were used to having their egos inflated because of who their parents were and how much money they’d been born into. They all had an expanding network of acquaintances whom they can draw upon for favors, business advantages, and career leaps.
He was just another resource for them, now. Another pawn on their boards— and it wasn’t like they were trying to hide it either. How do they all tolerate each other? Again, he felt like he was surrounded by automatons— a small sea of self serving, pretentious machines.
He made his way outside and saw Jeremy's team chatting with each other. He considered leaving them alone, he didn't know how they had taken their elimination. He knew that he'd probably want to avoid them if their positions were reversed.
He was going to go find a cafe, but Stephan noticed him and told the team. Nicole beamed and waved him over. They were all smiling as he met them— save Rodney who seemed to find a sudden interest in the concrete underfoot. Jeremy patted Hunter on the back and offered his congratulations. Nicole seemed to be excited about Hunters placement.
“I can't believe you did so well! You should have seen David Nettle’s face when your results were announced. It was so funny. And when you bowed! He went red!” she said, unable to hold back laughter. Rodney started smiling a bit as well.
“It did feel feel good to see him humbled like that. There’s people like him at every competition we’ve been to,” Jeremy said.
“Look at me, my AR is higher than yours. That must mean I am a superior specimen. Behold your king, peasants,” Stephan said, doing his best impression of David Nettle, sticking his nose up in the air with his arms crossed.
Hunter laughed with them. He was glad that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. It felt good to let some of tension bleed away.
“We were gonna grab something to eat, wanna come?” Nicole asked. Hunter nodded. He felt a lot better than he had the previous day. He checked his watch, there was still over an hour and a half before the next round.
“As long as we don't go too far out of the way, sure,” Hunter said. They talked as they walked. Hunter got to know the team a bit better. Rodney seemed like he had something he wanted to say, but elected to remain silent.
They chose a restaurant near where Jimmy had taken him a couple of days ago. It was busy, most families had the day off on Sunday and there were plenty of people out to lunch.
They were led to a rounded booth. As they all sat down and started browsing the menu, Rodney took the chance to speak up.
“How’d you do it?” he asked.
Hunter shook his head.
“Could you be more specific?” Hunter asked. He knew exactly what Rodney meant, but he'd been pretty impolite so far and Hunter felt obliged to reciprocate.
“7 stars, both rounds,” Rodney said, his eyes unflinching as they bored into Hunters, “the highest score by over 10 points, while solo? I still can’t figure it out. How did you do it?”
Hunter studied Rodney's face. He searched for something like an accusation, some sign that he was just like the rest of the pricks he’d been having to deal with lately. Rodney was intense, but the dismissal he'd noticed the other day wasn't there anymore. He wasn’t apologizing, or trying to gain some favor. All Hunter say in Rodney’s face was a sincere desire to solve a problem.
Hunter could relate to that feeling. He imagined being in Rodney's shoes, and knew that he would feel the same. He’d want to do whatever it took, to sit however long he needed to in front of however many books, and do however many experiments it took to figure something out.
“I’ve got to admit, i’m kind of curious too,” Jeremy said, “It’s awesome that you’ve been doing so well, but you’ve got to understand that from our perspective, its hard to believe— and we were there.”
Hunter considered his words. They only confirmed what he’d expected when he signed up to take the preliminary test, at least to a degree. But if he was honest, what he’d really expected was a bit more intrigue and corporate sabotage. Maybe he’d read too many novels.
He didn't really trust them, the team, but he'd had some practice with half answers lately and he figured that he could throw them something that would ease the sharp edges around their curiosity. Another point in their benefit is that they weren’t nosey journalists, instead they were among the few people who had treated him with respect over the last few days.
“Gideon Koar was my dad,” Hunter said, waiting to see how they’d react. At this point it was probably less unbelievable than his performance in the competition so far. They all had similar reactions to this revelation; a casual nod, a shrug of the shoulders.
“I've always had this handicap— my AR” he said, “but etherium has always been my core passion.”
Nicole snickered.
Jeremy gave her a look that seemed like a warning.
“What did I say?” Hunter asked, confused by the reaction.
Jeremy's look intensified. Nicole ignored him.
“You said core passion,” she said, snickering again, “like, Koar passion.”
Hunter was stunned.
His reaction seemed to amuse her even more, and her snicker graduated to a giggle.
“I deeply, deeply apologize. She's hopeless, the poor thing,” Jeremy said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nicole's merriment was undaunted, she continued to giggle to herself as Jeremy suffered.
Was she like this the previous day, and he had just been too tired to notice?
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Hunter decided to continue with his point.
“Anyways, my dad always encouraged me to continue studying constructs. By the time I was 8, I was building my own. A few years later, after he died, I had to support myself— constructs kept my fridge full and a roof over my head. But I had to adapt, I had to learn how to approach the craft differently. I had to learn to do it my way,” he said. He wondered if that would be enough to satisfy them.
Rodney shook his head.
“I believe that's only half the story,” he said, “I could accept that you took a unique approach to the battery, and that it would be enough to impress the judges— not that I could begin to imagine how your approach differed from ours or anyone else's. But that doesn't explain how you were able to create such a powerful and efficient Force construct,” Rodney said. Hunter felt that he was starting to understand Rodney a bit better.
The intensity of his demeanor might have held some envy. It might have held some regret, but what Hunter saw the most was excitement.
He knew that Hunter knew something. And he wanted to know too.
He could tell him the truth, at least what he suspected. It wasn’t rare for high-AR individuals to develop mutations, mutations that they sometimes passed on to their children. It could be an unnatural increase in strength, speed, endurance, or even a change in skin color— a famous example was an elderly man who had reached an AR of over 100, and his skin turned a light shade of blue, and he could adjust the temperature of his skin by amounts that would usually be incredibly difficult for human beings to survive prolonged exposure too, and he could do it for days at a time.
Such mutations were incredibly rare— even among high-AR individuals. The highest known AR is 120, and as far as Hunter recalls, he hadn’t shown any signs of having developed a mutation.
He suspected that his father had a similar mutation. He hadn’t known what his AR had been by the time he’d died, but if Hunters suspicion was correct, than he inherited the sensitivity after it manifested in his father.
Hunter made a decision. He might not trust them, but he liked these guys, and Rodney seemed like something of a kindred spirit, in a way.
“Any of you got a pen and paper?” he asked the team. Stephen nodded and grabbed his backpack, taking out a pad of paper and a pencil. Hunter took it and started drawing.
“I'm betting you made three key choices when you designed your construct. I'm assuming you devoted the majority of your AR budget to the Force glyph, and the you probably used two small Amplify glyphs spaced evenly apart and close to the output plate, and a small Reinforce glyph on at least one of them, correct?”
Nicole nodded and pursed her lips as she concentrated on Hunters’ impromptu lecture. He’d never really taken the time to explain his thoughts about constructs before, most of his notes were his own personal brand of chicken scratch, and the rest of the logic was in his head, where it was safe.
He spoke slowly as he considered his words.
“Personally, I placed my Reinforce glyph on the plate, but it was one of the first glyphs in my network syntax,” he paused, seeing if they were following. Jeremy looked confused, Stephan seemed as stoic as usual, but Rodney was nodding enthusiastically.
“If I'm not wrong,” Hunter continued, “this modification to the syntax is what David Nettle and Jonathan Berrymoore’s teams used, with some of their own modifications and design choices. My guess is that Jonathan’s team created a design that was a lot more streamlined than David’s. How you place and size your glyphs could make or break your place on the leaderboard. I also bet that Jonathan’s team did something similar with how they placed their Reinforce glyph— rather than just having it earlier in the syntax, they might have had it right at the beginning like mine, and then they would have built the rest of the construct around it.”
“Are you saying that having Reinforce as part of the Initializing syntax makes it act as an amplifier?” Rodney asked.
Hunter nodded. Before he could continue, Rodney snapped his fingers.
“And you’re saying that having it on the output plate would have subtly reinforced the Force glyph through proximity. To be honest, I don’t think i’ve ever heard of proximal effects as anything other than hypothetical, but if you’re claiming that you’ve verified it…” Rodney said, the enthusiasm causing his words to come out like a stream of syllables. He paused to think before continuing, “But I'm not seeing how that would have much of an effect on either AR efficiency or output. ”
“It wouldn't, you're right. But some of the other support glyphs I used would have had a destabilizing effect on the Force glyph. The subtle effect that Reinforce had in proximity to the Force glyph ultimately allowed for greater output without the glyph destabilizing or the causing the constructs efficiency to drop.”
“And you're gonna keep those specific support glyphs to yourself, I take it,” Nicole said with a smirk.
“Wouldn’t you?” Hunter asked.
Nicole shrugged and conceded his point.
He could tell he’d given the team a lot of think about. Especially Rodney. He seemed content with the answer so far, but Hunter knew he wouldn’t feel satisfied until he got the full breakdown.
Too bad for Rodney.
Hunter didn’t know what the future would bring.. If he shared anymore, he could find that his work was being used by one of the companies which had taken his home away from him. They’d end up getting his work anyways— any company that released a new product knew that it can, and will, be reverse engineered.
It wasn’t like Hunter had never used his synergistic glyph networks publicly before. Whenever he wanted to impress a client or assumed there was a low chance of his work being observed by another artisan, he would use some of his own research to improve a construct.
But those were usually exceptional circumstances. Hunter was content to repair things to their original function. There were other ways to improve the quality of a construct without giving away his prized knowledge.
Hunter wanted his work released to the world on his own terms, when he was ready. He wanted full control of when and how his tech was distributed.
Although, he had to admit that the respect he saw in the eyes of the team was something he could get used to.
----------------------------------------
The top 5 teams were back in the stadium. They walked out one by one in the order of their ranking from the previous round to a long period of applause from the gathered spectators. As Hunter entered, he was suprised to see that there weren’t any workbenches. Instead, there was a large, open-faced room that was full of machines and gadgets of various sizes. The room was elevated, built upon the stage the announcer had used for the previous two rounds.
The teams were told to line up, facing the spectators with their backs twoards the open-faced room.
Hunter had a bad feeling about this final round. Just before he’d entered, an attendant had taken him to the side and told him that for this round he’d only be allowed to use two of his custom tools, rather than the full set he’d been working with for the last two rounds. The third arm was a given, otherwise the disadvantage would be unbridgeable.
He also chose his multi-node, a tool he’d designed to make it easier to attach multiple batteries to a construct, and also helped him dramatically reduce the amount of time it took both attach and detach batteries to the nodes he used to test the constructs as they were being built.
Those were his two greatest disadvantages during this competition, and those two tools had been his lifeline. The rest of his tools were still important, as they helped with channel carving. He’d also brought a bunch of stencils to help carve the glyphs that he either used the most commonly or demanded the most technical skill to create, as his hands tended to shake during more demanding jobs, but that was a limitation he could work with, to an extent.
Would it be enough to win him the competition? He had to believe it would be.
He’d done well enough so far, and he wasn’t about to doubt how far he was capable of pushing himself.
The other teams seemed confident. Jonathan Berrymoore and his team stood proud as they faced the audience. David Nettle’s team appeared more subdued, but no less confident. None of the assembled teams appeared to hold any doubts regarding the outcome of this round. They all knew that they had what it took to win.
The first and second round were important— but they were only a means to make it here. The final placement would be calculated by combining the results from all three rounds, with the final round giving the most points.
Hunter knew that much, but wasn’t quite sure about the specifics of how each round’s score was broken down, but he’d find out in a few hours, one way or another.
“Welcome, everybody, to the final round of the 10th annual Global Youth Artisan Competition. Our top 5 teams have distinguished themselves as some of the most exceptional artisans of their generation. We have high hopes for you all, and are looking forward to seeing how you’ll meet the challenge that’s been prepared for you. Behind you is a room full of constructs in various states of repair and disrepair. Some can be salvaged and some can’t. To finish this challenge, you must repair the wireless network hub at the back of the room. In order to do that, you must use your own judgement to discern which constructs must be recyled, and which will be necessary to support the hub’s core functions.”
It was then that Hunter started to despair.
During this round his disadvantages would be the most pronounced. The last two rounds had worked for him because it tested a team’s knowledge about the craft. This was a round designed push a team to its limit, and Hunter didn’t have a team to lean on.
“You will have 2 hours to complete the round. Placement will be decided by a team’s time to completion and the creative use of the tools and resources provided. You will also have your work appraised by our panel of esteemed judges. Teams, are you ready?”
Hunter nodded— and assumed the other teams did as well. He didn’t feel ready, but did that matter at this point? He didn’t look forward to sticking around for a 10 hours, though. Especially if this round was going to be as taxing as he imagined it would be.
“Hunter Koar, you scored the highest during the previous round, so you have option to either go first, or second. What do you prefer?” the announcer asked.
Hunter didn’t take too long to think about it. He needed information— a gameplan. Watching another team go through the process of trying to figure out how to complete the round might not assure him of success, but it’ll go a long way to helping him be more efficient with his approach.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“Excellent. Jonathan Berrymoore, Tilda Burner, and Philip Golbrune, you’re up! Good luck, contestants!”
The team stepped up to the room and started to discuss a strategy as the round officially began and the 3 hour countdown was initiated.
Hunter had eaten a small meal, and had drank a large coffee. He also brought one with him— after getting approval from the competition staff. The logic was that if he spilled coffee over his work, that was on him, and so it was his own risk to take.
He sipped his coffee as he watched the team get to work. They spread throughout the room, taking an inventory of what was there. Hunter recognized some of the constructs over the 30 yards that seperated him and the room. There wasn’t any real logic or theme that he could distinguish. He’d seen similar constructs at Mrs. Margarets, he’d seen some of them in Artisan workshops that he’d visited, he’d even seen some at fast-food establishments.
He had some ideas about how this round was meant to be approached. It seemed almost like a puzzle. Jonathan’s team was starting to figure it out as well.
“You’re not going to win this, you know that right?”
Hunter almost cringed when he heard David’s voice. Every time David had talked to him over the last couple days, he approached from behind with same hostile, whining tone.
“Do you have a problem with approaching people normally?” Hunter asked.
“I have a problem with arrogant, self-entitled brats,” David said. Hunter decided not to comment, it wasn’t worth the effort. If David had the self awareness necessary to appreciate Hunters most obvious response, then Hunters response wouldn’t be necessary.
As it was, pointing out the hypocrisy would be lost on David. And Hunter didn’t care, either way. He’d been intimidated by David when they’d first met. But Hunter wasn’t afraid anymore. He’d proven that he deserved to be here.
“Although,” David said, filling the silence when Hunter didn’t take the bait, “you have proven that you have a right to be arrogant. Two top scores, it’s impressive. And all alone, too.”
Hunter almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked at David and studied him.
“Are you feeling alright?” Hunter asked.
David snorted.
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t matter how you feel, what you think your odds are. You’re not going to win. This round is your antithesis. I’m sure you’ve already realized it.”
Hunter shrugged.
“I’ll guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
David had apparently said all he’d wanted to, and started to walk back to his team. But before he got too far he paused, and looked back.
“You know, I used to admire Gideon Koar. Hearing what he did to those innocent people, it taught me something,” he said, staring off into the distance, “such a shame. Should we be worried about you as well, Hunter?”
Hunter had done a very good job of staying calm in front of this jerk all weekend. He’d kept himself focused, refusing to let him get inside his head.
But this time, the words had struck home. A fire rose in Hunters chest, and reached his throat, and fury animated his tongue as he whispered.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”