IV
The metallic clang of trays being cleared signals the end of breakfast. A calm, disembodied voice fills the room, its tone devoid of emotion. "Contestants, you will now undergo physical and psychological evaluations. Your results will inform your training regimen for the coming days. Your individual profiles will be displayed, along with personalized strategic recommendations." The contestants, still lingering, slowly turn toward the exit, their earlier tensions momentarily forgotten in the face of the unknown.
Rebecca feels a mix of anxiety and anticipation as she is called to the nurse's office for her examination. Inside, a large holographic display flickers to life in the center of the room, its surface shimmering with an ethereal glow. However, Rebecca remains seated, her gaze steady, a silent observer amidst the rising tide of nervous energy. An examiner stands nearby, watching her closely as she prepares for what is to come.
The hologram resolves into a series of rotating 3D models, each a digital representation of a contestant. Rebecca's own image spins into view, a disconcerting and intimate portrayal. She appears in her underwear, the harsh lighting accentuating every detail of her slender frame. The image isn't flattering; it is stark and undeniably intrusive. A wave of heat rises to her cheeks, but she holds her composure. This is Live; humiliation is common here.
Her image is highlighted, and the examiner continues with sharp precision. "Contestant 42, Rebecca. Your physical limitations require a tactical approach that prioritizes speed and agility. Your slight build should be used to your advantage. We recommend focusing on techniques that exploit an opponent's momentum against themselves. We suggest exploring Ju-jutsu, a traditional Japanese martial art that emphasizes leverage and throws."
The hologram shifts to show stylized animations of Ju-jutsu techniques, each movement fluid and efficient—a calculated dance of force and counterforce. Rebecca watches intently, her mind already processing the implications. Using her smaller frame as an advantage... It is a viable strategy that minimizes her physical weakness while capitalizing on her agility.
A small frown creases her brow. The privacy violation of the underwear image stings, but the strategic advice feels genuinely helpful—a rare moment of objectivity in this brutal game. The thought of mastering Ju-jutsu and transforming her weakness into strength sparks a flicker of determination within her. Her thoughts fade as she glances at the examiner, who nods encouragingly, leaving her with a renewed sense of purpose. The chilling game continues, but for the first time, Rebecca feels a sense of potential agency within its constraints.
Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath escapes Rebecca’s lips as the inscrutable voice of the examiner takes on a slightly condescending tone. “Contestant 42, you seem to have overlooked a detail regarding your ankle injury... that was addressed.”
Rebecca’s brow furrows. “Addressed? How?”
"During your initial processing, enhancements were made," replies the examiner calmly as she gestures toward the holographic display. "Your physiological framework, along with those of the other contestants, have been reinforced with microscopic metal fibers that are exceptionally strong. In your case, these fibers are practically indestructible and provide unparalleled flexibility and elasticity. Your ankle is healed. Any pain you may feel is likely psychosomatic—a residual effect of your trauma."
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Rebecca stares blankly at the holographic display as her body image continues to rotate slowly. The information settles in slowly at first but then hits her like a jolt. Enhanced ligaments? Unbreakable fibers? It seems absurd yet is delivered with calm certainty by the examiner’s steady presence beside her. She flexes her ankle tentatively at first but then with increasing force. There is no pain or twinge—only surprising freedom of movement. She performs a slow plié, her leg extending far beyond its previous limits in a graceful arc against the sterile backdrop of the examination room.
A slow smile spreads across her face—not entirely from happiness but from grim understanding. The game’s manipulations are far more profound than she had initially imagined. The enhancements aren’t just physical; they are a restructuring of her very being—a transformation of limitations into unexpected advantages. The implications are unsettling but also offer a newfound sense of potential. This isn't just about survival anymore; it is about adaptation and evolution within the brutal framework of Live.
The chilling reality sinks in: she is no longer simply Rebecca, the disabled dancer; she is something more. The enhanced agility and reinforced ligaments are not just gifts but reminders of the show’s ruthless control over her fate—a chilling acknowledgement that her destiny rests not only in her hands but also in the hands of the game itself.
The silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the soft whir of the holographic display and the quiet hum of unseen machinery. The holographic display flickers again as Rebecca’s enhanced physique fades to reveal a stylized graph. "Now let's address your psychological profile," says the examiner as she continues her assessment while Rebecca remains focused on both the graph and the examiner beside her.
"Our analysis indicates that you have a predominantly calm and introspective personality; however, there is also a significant capacity for impulsive behavior when triggered by intense emotions like anger."
Rebecca’s gaze remains steady as she listens to the examiner continue her clinical assessment like a surgeon dissecting specimens. "This pattern is noteworthy given the circumstances surrounding your alleged offense—the destruction of your dance school… Was this an act of deliberate malice?"
A muscle twitches in Rebecca’s jaw as she replies firmly but quietly, “It isn’t ‘a school.’ It’s my studio.” She feels that 'studio' doesn’t capture all those years filled with sweat and dedication—everything she has worked for—and it isn’t ‘deliberate malice.” She pauses as bitter memories swirl in her mind: betrayal, sabotage, crushing despair—the pain from knowing that everything she had built has been stolen from her.
“It isn’t malice; it’s desperation,” she finally says, feeling raw emotion rise within her again—a fury ignited by injustice itself—a desperate attempt to destroy evidence and annihilate pain that threatens to consume her.
Her explanation is brief and devoid of emotional histrionics—regardless of the storm that rages within her. The examiner nods slightly without showing any signs of being affected by Rebecca’s intensity as she begins writing on a transparent digital overlay on the graph with a stylus that appears in their hand. “Anger issues,” she notes without any judgment—just another data point added to Rebecca's profile.
The clinical detachment feels both unnerving and strangely comforting; Rebecca feels observed but not judged. This is an assessment rather than condemnation—this is Live—and even anger has analytical value here. The game assesses and categorizes everything; Rebecca's anger is just another piece needed to devise an optimal survival strategy.
The examination concludes abruptly as the examiner falls silent after completing her function, her unbothered form standing still beside Rebecca. With a soft beep, she powers down her display and turns away, gliding silently through the wardrobe doors that click metallically behind her. Rebecca is left alone in the sterile white room, her mind filled with lingering thoughts about what has just transpired. Outside, the corridor buzzes with murmurs from contestants congregating in small groups—discussions creating low hums punctuated by occasional bursts of louder speech. The air crackles with apprehension and speculation—the ever-present tension permeating Live.