Whoa, Nic thought. It was a lot to take in all at once. Terraforming soldiers fighting on unclaimed alien planets—that sounds awesome! But this AI said it would be a fight to the death. Magister Dana failed but she didn’t die.
RTIFIS laughed—its voice had a hollow, metallic reverb to it. “Just kidding—well, kinda! Don’t worry: you’re not in any danger. This Arena is reinforced with six layers of astrosteel—stronger than the hull of your average spaceship! Nothing will get into or out of this structure. However, you’ll be doing battle remotely inside the Arena using the war machines of the modern age: proxybots! Using your SimSuit, you’ll pilot these human-sized proxybots from the total safety of your bunk. You can deal damage to other proxybots manually, or by using any of the six weapon types provided to you in the Arena. Some are released automatically, and others become available to you based on your performance. You’ll also have access to seven Upgrade Paks—again, some will be randomly scattered around the environment, and others will be granted to you as you get kills and rack up enough points!”
This is sort of like Trigger Point, Nic realized, thinking back to one of the sims he was made to play weekly at PPI. It happened to be his favorite sim. Some other aspects of the competition resembled Race Royale, a sim that had always frustrated him—he almost never placed first.
“So, those are the basics of the competition. Select one of the options on your HUD to learn more, or simply wait a short while longer for the Final Exam to begin.”
Several options materialized as translucent overlays in his video feed.
[What is RTIFIS?] [What weapons can I use?] [What Upgrade Paks can I use?] [How do I win?]
Nic was drawn to the final option—by hovering over it with his eyes, RTIFIS got the hint and the options faded from view. “Scoring is fairly simple,” the AI explained. “Killing one enemy proxybot will earn you a Kill, worth 100 points, while reducing an enemy proxybot’s health to under 50% will earn you an Assist, worth 50 points—but only if another player steals your kill. The first 100 players to rack up 1,000 points, or the 100 players with the highest scores after 60 minutes, win! Caution: You only have access to 10 proxybots, so once those lives run out, you are instantly disqualified.”
I can do this, he thought. 1,000 points—10 kills. I’ll try to avoid getting any Assists, but they won’t hurt my score... They’ll just make it easier for someone else to get a Kill. So, yeah, I’ll have to be thorough.
When the menu rematerialized, he selected another option. “There are six weapon types available in the Arena,” said RTIFIS. “Each proxybot is equipped with a standard three-weapon loadout: a Submachine Gun, a Pistol, and a Combat Knife.” This really is just like Trigger Point! thought Nic. “Each time you earn 400 points in the Arena, you have the option to request a new weapon. The other weapons available to you are the Shotgun, the Sniper Rifle, and the Rocket Launcher! These weapons may also be scattered around your environment.” Before Nic could get more info on RTIFIS or the Upgrade Paks, the AI hologram suddenly stood at attention with its hands folded behind its back. “Welcome, students, to your Final Exam. Some of you may know me already. For those who don’t, my name is RTIFIS, your Real Time Integrated Fighting Improvement System. I’ll be your AI guide to what happens next!” He listened as the AI repeated its entire spiel from before, including its fight-to-the-death joke, but without the options to learn more at the end.
Instead, RTIFIS delivered a new speech: “Your POV will now change to that of your first active proxybot. This machine will be your eyes and ears in the Arena, and your SimSuit is programmed to provide moderate tactile stimulation to simulate combat damage and other sensations. You may find this stimulation uncomfortable. You are free to forfeit the competition at any time and remove your SimSuit if you so desire.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Tell me who won, the young voice echoed in his mind. Tell me! Tell me I won! The taste of iron and salt...
“In the event that your active proxybot is killed,” RTIFIS went on, “you will undergo a short cooldown period of 10 seconds, after which your POV will switch to that of your next active proxybot. This will repeat until you have expended all of your lives or until the competition is over. You can access the rules again at any time by accessing the Main Menu in your HUD during a break in combat or a death cooldown. Now, get ready! The competition will begin in 30 seconds!”
A blue digital countdown timer appeared in the center of his HUD.
30... 29... 28...
Nic forced a deep breath in through his nostrils, catching a whiff of SimSuit gel. The noise echoed off his bunk’s tinny walls; he had to trust they were thicker than they sounded. He exhaled through his mouth. Clenched his fists. Jumped in place a few times.
22... 21... 20...
The SimSuit support cords dropped from their compartment in the ceiling, as always, and attached themselves automatically to key points on his body. These cords would help to simulate his movement in the Arena; they could become taut, rigid and jointed, or loose in milliseconds, to give him the illusion of jumping, falling, rolling, or any other movement combination possible.
“POV switch initializing,” said RTIFIS. “Proxybot engage.”
Nic’s heartbeat quickened. The bird’s-eye view video feed in his HUD went dark, and a moment later, he saw the Arena from a different angle—a ground view.
He was now inside the head of his very first proxybot.
The Final will be different, he told himself again. I’ll make it so.
11... 10... 9...
He lurched forward suddenly as if pushed by an unseen hand. The support cords jostled him accordingly. The reality of his bunk, his SimSuit, PPI—all of it receded in his mind, replaced by the technological illusion imposed on him. He was his proxybot. And he was now entering the Arena, stepping out of a metallic holding cell of sorts onto the dry dust of the Ayrus floor.
4... 3...
His right arm automatically reached behind him and detached a weapon strapped to his back—a Submachine Gun, he saw when it entered his POV.
2... 1...
He squeezed the gun’s grip, finger teasing the trigger. He held the handguard tight. Showtime.
ARENA START 01:00:00 00:59:59 00:59:58
Nic saw his first target and fired.