The ride out of Seckina had been silent, but not uncomfortable. Along the way, his handlers had informed him that Joyce had cashed in a favor and he was being given a suite in a hotel close to the arena that the competition was going to be held at. They would help him move his stuff into the suite but after that he’d be on his own.
Soon, Hunter began to recognize the surroundings. Certain landmarks on the way to the capital— the Portsmith bridge the stretched across the Denman river, the iconic smokestacks of the Nelson Brothers factory, one of the oldest factories in the world. It hadn’t been used in over a century, but it had immense historical value as one of the old pillars of the Oberon corporation— before the unification war, back before they rebranded to become Oberon Enterprises. Back then the company was called Oberon & Sons.
He felt some nostalgia when they approached the Oberon Capital itself. The last time he’d come here was when his father was still alive, probably 3 years before his death. He would have been around 8 or 9 at the time. He barely recognized the place, but there were a few things that stood out. Old restaurants that his father had taken him to, the Establishment monument, which was built to the commemorate the genesis of The Council-- an event which sparked the unification war, where the Council declared their independence. It didn't take them long to conquer or outright buy the rest of the world.
The old world had died, and the new world had been born. The Council of Corporations had emerged victorious. Oberon Enterprises was a founding member of the Council and one of the oldest Corporations still in existence, rivalled in age by Smith Transports and Lumina Inc, none of which could hold a candle to the history of the nations they had taken over during the war.
The Council had promised a level of freedom that none of the previous nations could compete with. War had always been prevalent on Sanctuary, even the ancient Asutnahem had evidence of war and conquest if you looked back far enough. And speaking of the Asutnahem, Hunter recognized the Oberon Central Museum as they passed it. It had been his fathers favorite place to visit when he decided to take a break from the lab, which was a rare occurrence, but he was always sure to bring Hunter with him. At the time, Hunter hadn’t cared too much about history. He still didn’t find much value in it.
But as soon as he saw the museum, he made a commitment to visit it. Maybe he’d discover the value in it that his father had always insisted was there. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he was close to to him again. He felt a familiar ache. The feeling of loss was gone, but there he still felt a longing to talk to him again. He wanted to hear how his dad had a new idea for an old invention, he wanted to impress him with how far his synergy research had come along.
He’d never gotten a chance to tell his father about synergies. It was always meant to be a surprise. If only he’d had a chance to show him, he imagined his dad would be proud of him.
Hunter took a deep breath and refocused on the present. He’d visit the museum when he was more certain about how the next few days would unfold.
The hotel that Hunter would be staying at was nothing impressive, but it wasn’t too shabby either. Once Hunter was shown to his suite, and all of his belongings were brought up, he took some time to explore the small suite. There was a small envelope on the table in the small living room that was detached from the bedroom. It was much smaller than where he was used to living, but it was also quite a bit nicer. Clean, and with a great view of the some of the surrounding high-rises, as well as nearby parks. The stadium was a few blocks away. He could see signs all around, plastered on buildings and rising from the stadium itself showcasing the logo of Oberon Enterprises, as well as the personal crest of the Oberon family and some other logos for local sports teams, which Hunter recognized but felt absolutely no attachment too. He’d always been too busy for sports.
He left the envelope on the coffee table, decided he’d read it in the morning after he’d gotten some sleep. He had a full day before the competition, but he would need to register tomorrow. He hadn’t decided when he’d visit the museum, but he figured it would either be tomorrow, or in between the competitions rounds.
If he made it that far.
Even if he didn’t, he could still visit it anyways. No matter what, the competition would end for Hunter on a high note.
Pondering the idea that he might not win felt like inviting in certain doom. But Hunter had never been one to hide from the facts, he’d just prefer to entertain the best possible scenario whenever he could. It would all workout for him, somehow. He would prove that he had value. Even if he didn’t win, he might able to establish himself as a valid candidate to hire. Someone would be interested in giving him a chance, even if it wasn’t Oberon Enterprises. The only other corporation he could imagine himself wanting to be associated with was Smith Transports, given that both Oberon and Smith appeared the least-involved with whatever remained of his father’s company.
Even so, Council Seats were Council seats. He would only rely on them as far as it was practical for him to do so. He refused to let himself become a ‘company man’. He wouldn’t sell his soul over to those vast, unfeeling machines. They would never care about him any farther than he was useful to them.
So their relationship would be based on mutual interest. He could stomach that.
That night, Hunter slept better than he had all week. The threat of the Comics was gone, his future was still uncertain, but he’s taken the path that gave him options, options that could support his great dreams if everything went well.
He’d consider that a win.
----------------------------------------
Hunter, I trust that the suite is to your liking. Having verified your identity, I find myself obligated to set your mind at ease.
You are likely aware that there were a few significant parties interested in your family’s estate. They will undoubtedly hear about your presence, but I’m happy to confirm that as long as you are a contestant in the Global Youth Artisan Competition, you will be under Oberon Enterprises’ official protection, as is the case with all contestants.
I’m also happy to inform you that your battery-centered workflow has been approved. There is a precedent for batteries to be used to assist in the creation of constructs when an individual has exhausted themselves from excessive etherium channeling, and this is considered nothing but an extension of that allowance. Oberon Enterprises is happy to loan you any ether batteries you require during the length of the competition, so long as they are used exclusively for the intended purpose of assisting you in the design and creation of constructs. If they are used as components of the actual constructs, in excess of any batteries that are supplied for that specific function, you will be disqualified from participating any further.
Best of luck,
Joyce Collingwood
Talent Acquisition Specialist for Oberon Enterprises
Seckina Center Office
P.S. Don’t let the other contestants get to you. Stay focused on what you know, and I’m certain that you’ll excel. Its also worth reiterating that Oberon Enterprises’ protection only extends to active contestants, not previous contestants. As soon as you lose, or are disqualified, you are on your own.
Hunter had taken some time to wake up before reading the letter that Joyce had left for him. The suite came equipped with a coffee press and a fresh bottle of milk in the fridge. The small box television had access to a few channels, and Hunter had to play with the antenna before it would show a clear-enough image.
He turned the channel dial until he found the morning news. A terrorist attack in another domain, one in Oberon Enterprises Domain, far from the capital or Seckina, but still worrying. The Global Youth Artisan competition was mentioned, but apparently wasn’t as big of a deal to most of the city as it was to Hunter. Although the competition had earned the right to take over the local stadium, it wasn’t considered a popular enough topic to devote anymore than a short piece about its history, and some of the more notable hopefuls from around the globe.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
For the first time, Hunter had a chance to see who he was going to be competing with. He recognized some of the faces from Seckina, a notable team who had apparently done very well in the previous competition but hadn’t made it past the 4th place. Over 50 teams had passed the preliminary examination, and the teams would be composed of anywhere between three to four people. Anything below that was considered an unnecessary handicap.
Apparently the 2nd place team from last year was also returning to try and claim a top spot. Either they didn’t receive any good offers last year, or they had their mind set on something better. Something like being sponsored to attend the Barnum Academy of Excellence. Hunter still had no idea what was so special about the Academy and he didn’t really care. The academy was only a secondary consideration after receiving a commitment from Oberon Enterprises. He assumed that they’ll only sponsor you if you commit, in writing, to joining them after graduating
Hunter would prefer to see what kind of cash equivalence they hand out. It would be a win win, they can offer the sponsorship to someone who actually wants it, and Hunter can have enough money to live comfortable as he decides his next step, or finds a new client list with the credentials of having won the Global Youth Artisan Competition by himself. Who knows, maybe he’ll start his own company like his father had, strategically using his synergies to set him apart from the competition, attracting brilliant minds to work for him under the spirit of innovation and progress.
That option didn’t appeal to him as much as leaving the world did, but if he couldn’t leave it, he’d make as big of an impact on Sanctuary as he could. Screw the corporations, he’d make his own.
He laughed at himself.
As if he’d want all that work. Having to deal with the sociopaths who run all the other successful corporations would be soul-killing.
No thanks.
After drinking his coffee, he had read the letter and seen that there were two mores items inside the envelope, which contained a certificate which declared Hunter had passed the preliminaries, as well as a letter vouching for Hunters identity.
Hunter realized he didn’t have an ID for his real identity, all he had was the fake ID that declared him as Jonathan Esper. He silently whispered his thanks to Joyce for being so conscientious. If he couldn’t prove who he was, he probably wouldn’t have been able to actually register. Feeling like he’d just dodged a bullet he didn’t even know was coming, he took a shower and left the hotel. As he was able to partially see the stadium from his hotel window, he knew which direction to go. There were surprisingly few people around at this time, and the Stadium felt especially deserted. It reminded him of the rec center he had taken the preliminaries at, which had a line out the door to wait but once you were inside it was practically silent.
Hunter endered the stadium. There were very few people present, some staff who smiled and at him as he entered. He saw no obvoius sign of where to go to register, and someone was kind enough to point him to the big banner that Hunter had somehow missed, which had a large arrow directing teams towards the registration area. -The arrow lead to another arrow, which lead to another, and Hunter found himself inside a large room filled with dozens of people. The other teams, it seemed. A rough count put the amount of people in the low 100’s, which meant that just under half of the competing contestants were present. The rest would have already registered, or would show up later in the day. Hunter also noticed that there were a few people in suits to the side of the room, observing proceedings and taking notes.
Whatever their function was, Hunter couldn’t tell.
Hunter got a few curious looks when he entered, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be minding their own business. He could hear a few conversations, some in languages he didn’t understand. These people must have travelled overnight like he had in order to get here, or perhaps their preliminary tests had been conducted earlier. Hunter studied the room. Most of the teams were staying to one side of the room, while another team was at the front, where he assumed they were being registered. What he saw next made him feel like a hundred pound stone had coalesced in his gut.
Next to the registering team was a small affinity scanner, hooked up to a screen that was large enough for its contents to be legible across the room. Whatever logic caused them to think that the measured affinities would be anyone’s business apart from the team and the person recording it, Hunter couldn’t deduce it. Perhaps it had something to do with the suited individuals he’d noticed earlier. Each member of the team took a turn at the small machine. With the result, their name would be announced, along with their score. All the rest of the teams found this interesting enough to interrupt their conversations.
“Larissa Vanderbeldt, Affinity: 18”
The suits all took notes. A small bit of discussion broke out amongst the observing teams.
“Joy Medelken, Affinity: 20”
Hunter was impressed. 18 was a good score for someone their age, slightly higher than average. He guessed that these youths were around the same age as he was, within the range of 16 to 19, so an affinity 20 would measure within the 90th percentile worldwide. The suits took notes with a few raised eyebrows. The teams made a few impressed sounds, and there were a few scoffs and sneers as well.
“Tony Demore, Affinity: 18”
“Julia Emerosa, Affinity: 17”
All respectable scores. Hunter realized he had been bouncing his right leg. He kept his heel firmly planted against the ground, but then he realized his hands were shaking. The room felt hot. He was sweating.
He would have to go in front of all of these people soon.
The next team was called up.
Their measurements ranged between 15 to 19. The team after that scored similarly, with one person having an affinity of 21. The young man with such a high affinity had observed the audience after his score was announced, a proud look on his face. He graced the suits with a smile and a small bow.
The young man’s name was David Nettle. Hunter hadn’t heard of him before. Not that he expected he should have. What was his deal? A high affinity would mean something if you were in a martial arts competition, or a strength competition, and trained regularly enough to take advantage of the slightly increased strength and endurance the affinity could bestow.
But in an artisan competition?
It didn’t make much of a difference. At least, not beyond the obvious increase in the length of time and volume of etherium that you could use to test your construct. Without regular testing, something could go incredibly wrong. It was like debugging software, except the final result was mostly permanent without specialized tools and plenty of time to carefully rework specific glyphs and networked channels of finely ground Drawstones.
It wouldn’t help you with theory, nor would it help you with creativity and problem solving, which Joyce had said would be the focus for the second and third final round of the competition. The thought brought some comfort to Hunter, as he knew that whatever these people might think of him and his affinity, his value would be readily apparent when it came time to get to work.
Soon enough it was his turn to register himself. When the registration staff called out if there were any remaining teams present that wished to register, Hunter stood. He gained a lot of attention. People had noticed him sitting alone as all the present teams had gone through the registration process. Those same people looked at him with surprise as he approached the registration table alone. He heard some laughter from the teams, and even the suits were whispering amongst themselves, some snickered, others looked at him skeptically, but were prepared to write down whatever information they were looking to glean from the event.
“Where’s the rest of your team?” the man standing at the registration desk asked. Hunter shook his head.
“It’s just me.”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“Alright,” he said, handing Hunter a sheet of paper he was meant to fill out. It only took him a minute, and he then handed over his proof of passing the preliminaries, as well as the letter from Joyce vouching for his identity. When the man saw the letter, he frowned and told Hunter he’d be right back. He left and came back a minute later and looked at Hunter in a way that Hunter couldn’t recognized, something between confusion and curiosity, but whatever he was thinking he was professional enough to keep to himself.
“The letter was enough to verify you. Step over to the device, please, Mr. Koar.”
Hunter did so, gripping the drawstone. He felt the etherium flowing through him into the machine.
He knew what the machine was doing. His father had once shown him the prototype of a version he’d built for the Council, improving an even older design. This machine still had some hallmarks of his father’s contributions to the craft, even after having gone through a few iterations over the years, growing smaller and more streamlined. As more efficient glyphs were discovered, they’d be used wherever possible. Not quite like synergies, but similar.
Of course, a new glyph didn’t always mean a more efficient choice for a construct. In fact, a new glyph being discovered wouldn’t be widely adopted for years after its discovery, while artisans deconstructed it and tested it in all of its combinations. Many of which could prove explosive.
Hunter hadn’t had his affinity measured in over 6 years.
The machine beeped. The man looked at the result and frowned. Hunter braced himself..
“I’m sorry, Mr. Koar. The machine appears to be broken. One second.”
Hunter could have corrected the man, but he didn’t. The machine was reset, and people started talking, wondering what was taking so long. Hunter knew as well as anyone that the technology as both accurate and reliable.
The man finished resetting the machine, and Hunter gripped the Drawstone again.
The machine beeped, and Hunter sighed.
“It’s probably accurate,” Hunter said, glancing to the screen., the result surprised him as much as it shamed him.
Apparently, the rest of the room was just as surprised as he was.