Chapter 77

Ropes extended from the top of the cone. I understood their purpose.

Deflated at having my chance to beat Lance stolen from me by the simple cruelty of the timer running out, I stepped forward and took the rope in hand. I saw Gideon and Lance doing the same. Lance was very obviously effected by what he had experienced. He had been the favorite through this whole competition. Being easily manhandled by me had done something to him. His head hung as he took hold of the rope. He seemed incapable of looking at anything but his own feet.

Gideon wasn't unscathed by the experience. Maybe he understood that there was nothing he could now. Maybe he understood that The Choosing was mine to lose. It was strange to see him standing without that violent intensity. He took hold of the rope and all three of us started to descend, the ropes continuing to reel out and lower us.

My stomach churned as I watched the ground slowly grow nearer to me. I had experienced the height of elation as I dominated Lance and Gideon. I thought back to weakling I had been at the start of the contest and found myself shaking my head with disbelief at what I had become. But for every moment of joy, there were two of sorrow. I thought of the friendship I had been building with Lauren and Katya. I grimaced as I thought of the damage I had done to the developing bond.

Below, officials moved about with purpose, preparing for our arrival. The mental clock in my head ticked away—five contestants had meant four more days until the end, but with two gone, it was suddenly two days at most. I glanced at Lance, his head hanging low. He had been so confident, so sure of his victory, and now he looked defeated, panicked, inadequate.

The sense of victory, of mean supremacy, vied with the feelings of guilt and shame I felt over what I had done to the girls. I tried to remember that it was a mistake, that I hadn't meant to harm them. More than that, I tried to hold onto the guilt and the shame. But as I watched that bastard gripping the rope, his head down, imagining the swirl of defeat and panic in his head, I felt a surge of satisfaction.

For most of the descent, all I felt was victory.

The crowd noise rushed over me. There was something not entirely unpleasant about the attention of the masses as I continued to drift downward. Mario may have called time before I could truly defeat the others, but I felt like I was experiencing a triumph. Every face in the crowd had watched me emerging, had watched me toss not one, but two of the favorites around with such ease.

Then the voice was talking.

"You kept on doing it, skipping and skipping," it said. There was an awe, a disbelief to it. "How did you do that? That's never been done, nobody does that."

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I furrowed my brow. What was the blasted thing talking about now? What had passed was a blur in my mind. The action had been fast and frantic. I could really only remember the feelings of triumph, and the feelings of shame.

"What are you talking about now?" I said.

"You went from CUT 2.6 to 2.8 in one jump, then to 3.0 in one jump. In one jump, Tiberius! What kind of fuckery are you playing with?"

I tried to shrug it off. I was suddenly very tired.

"Maybe it went through 2.7 and 2.9 and the screen just didn't register it," I said.

The voice went silent, the kind of silence that was really very loud. Then it said, "What the hell am I playing with here? I knew you'd be interesting, but what have I got on my hands here?"

"A shopkeeper's son," I said. My tone was flat, but my emotions were a storm.

Nearly as soon as my feet touched the ground, Mario was in front of me. His brow was furrowed with something that bordered on hatred. But he didn't say anything. He didn't make direct eye contact with me. His hands fluttered at my neck and the suit began to dissolve from me.

The experience of having the suit taken away, yet again, was an increasing sorrowful experience. Each time I wore it I became more obsessed with the thing. But there was a solace here. I was the best of us. Suddenly I was more than a possible favourite, I was the runaway. In a day or two the suit would be mine and Mario's hands would flutter no more at my neck.

My chest remained full of hot air as I stepped forward to where the priests were gesturing for us to gather. Then it hit me—they were only gathering three of us. Off to the side, I saw the other two, Katya and Lauren, their suits removed for the last time. Never again would they feel the sensory euphoria of the suit, never again would they be one with the infinite potential, the power. Because of me.

I tried to catch their eyes, but they were huddled close, heads down. They were talking. I could imagine what they were saying: "The bastard," "Treacherous fucker." No more would Katya be talking of marrying me, of having my children, no matter how seriously or jestingly she meant it. No more would Lauren's dark pools of eyes be trying to sweep me in. I went cold inside, and the victories all started to feel hollow. They were my friends. I didn't mean to do it, goddammit, it was an instinct, something that happened in a fraction of a second.

Mario's voice boomed across the arena, pompous and self-satisfied, as the three of us stood on the stage. "Citizens of Boston, behold your remaining champions!" he declared, his arms outstretched as if he was personally responsible for the spectacle. "What a day we've had! The trials, the tribulations, and the triumphs! We have witnessed incredible feats of strength, cunning, and bravery. But now, only three contestants remain in the Choosing, each one a beacon of hope for our city!"

Mario continued to blather on. In watched him and I could see the discomfort in him. He knew as well as I did that if nothing changed then he would have to face me as the christened Sword of Boston in just a few days. I watched him with a bitter hunger.

It was so sweet to seem him swallow his emotions. He had scorned me, mocked me. He hated me for nothing more that my parentage.

I thought about the feelings Lance must be experiencing. It was small of me, I'm sure, but I treasured the expression on his face the suit melted from him. He was troubled beyond words.

And it was me, the shopkeeper's son, who had done that to him.

Even as I felt that, my eyes drifted to Katya and Lauren and my heart stilled.

Because of me, they would never feel the heaven of the suit again.