The broadcast of Willie's performance ended as abruptly as it had started. The end of these simulations was always hard on the player's brain, akin to walking off an hour-long roller coaster ride. There was no easy transition out of Electoral, just a sudden jolt back into reality. The interface felt like the brain was connected on a higher level with the technology than a simple trade of information.

Marilyn's games always ended with a glaring "Game Over" or "The End" written across the screen.

"That was crazy!" yelled Willie in the room, while trying to remove the contact lenses, his hands shaking from the influx of adrenaline. A studio producer unzipped the back of his exosuit, revealing his naked chest to the delight of half of the viewership. "Fuck, fuck, such reality!" He was babbling to himself. "The bloodshed!" His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. "Insane, insane!"

"Must have been quite a rush to play," said the slightly distant voice of the anchorwoman. "Come to the set, Willie. Marilyn will score your performance live with us." The co-anchor continued. "Marilyn promised hack and slash, and she delivered what looked like the ultimate of all slash-fests."

"How big was that army?" asked Willie bouncing like a boxer having just won a game his way to the set. He was handed a towel with the large CNN logo on it.

"I have no clue, but it seemed endless. There were legions upon legions of monsters in the distance." The woman turned to the audience. "Willie barely made a dent in the dragon wave, and the troll wave was only scratched. Electoral warned us, this scenario is not one that players can expect to win. This was a slasher, you just kill and survive as long as you can."

"Felt like forever."

"Willie's game lasted under than seven minutes. Hurry up! We are ready to discover your score live on air."

Cameras showed Willie grab a bottle of water and jump over floor cables. The studio technology appeared old-fashioned. The world-class athlete was drenched in sweat. The man's short blond hair was in shambles. He stumbled several times, but quickly regained his footing and made his way to his seat behind the desk wearing a towel over his shoulders.

"Willie is one of the most agile people in the world, and he can barely walk! That must have been brutal!"

"Willie, how was that?"

"Fucking amazing! What a fucking rush!"

The vulgarity of the language made the hosts cringe. He corrected himself. "Oh my God, the biggest . . . a ride off the Brooklyn Bridge. Total rush. It started at a hundred clicks. My brain is on fire. I was there . . . ." He could barely express himself. "I . . . ." As with most athletes, he was unable to keep his body from making sudden movements. His hand knocked a computer off the desk. "Sorry."

The producers loved every second of it. "Did I smash most of it? What's my score?" he asked.

Electoral was amazing. Mere seconds after the end of the simulation, a short fully-edited clip of the best moments of the performance was available for download. CNN played Willie's clip as the make-up artists tried to stop the athlete's sweat. For some reason, the film had an emphasis on the destruction of the Comb. The war wizard was portrayed as the defender of the structure in it.

"Did I do well? How long?" asked Willie as the returned on air. The journalists were back in full broadcast mode. They reintroduced their guest, and three experts stood ready off-set, just in case additional color was called for.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"We have your results," The screen around Willie filled with statistics. "Your simulation was much longer than others. Let's see!"

The points began to toll up. The number increased, bells were sounding in the background as in an arcade. The number of settled on 1,546,500 and began to blink in gold color. He'd obviously won something.

"Is that any good?" asked the sports star. John was trying to verify the score, producers were talking all over each other in his earpiece. Everyone in his ear was very excited.

"Well, Willie," he finally said. "It seems like you did very well. We are now fifteen minutes into the simulation, and there are only a handful of people still in play, and most of them are just on the run being pursued by the army. We would love to show these simulations to our viewers, but there is no point in showing a contestant hiding below a tree stump." They all laughed.

"Willie, you are in the top 10,000 in the preliminary rankings."

"Really? How long was it? It felt like an hour!"

"390 seconds, according to Marilyn."

"Is that all?"

They made small talk. "Willie, can you remind the viewers of which charity, you played for?"

"I am playing for the Football League of the Ivory Coast, it helps provide shoes to kids in Africa."

"That is wonderful. This report says you dispatched over three hundred enemies."

"Felt like a million to me. This was insane, the best virtual game I have ever played. Insane! My heart is still beating at 180."

As if the excitement could not get greater, John touched his earpiece, asked his producer to repeat himself, and interrupted the discussion. "Debbie, we have a special announcement from Electoral."

"You're go, Marilyn!"

The screen changed back to the fantasy world. Marilyn was there wearing the armor previously worn by Willie but in a female version with a very revealing breastplate in Amazon warrior fashion. She was on the battlefield, weapons in both hands, surrounded by dead carcasses of dragons. There was fire and destruction everywhere around her. She removed her helmet, and her hair fell back into place elegantly.

"Ooh la la . . . . that was even more . . . deadly than I anticipated. I am soooooo sorry!" Her smile was infectious. She blew a kiss and made her signature wink. "Even with the six minutes of pause available to each player, the average simulation lasted only a minute. This was so unfair to most who worked hard to raise these 100 credits. My scenario should have been more gradual. My goal was to test the limits of ingenuity, to see if anyone could win what cannot be won by design. This is my own little Kobayashi Maru test."

In the distance behind Marilyn, a creature shrieked. Without shifting her eye focus from the camera, Marilyn raised her hand, and a bolt of fire gushed out, blasting a monster out of the sky. Marilyn was a goddess here, she liked to remind viewers of that fact.

Her voice became extremely serious. "I am sure you are all wondering about the President's performance. So am I." She was thoughtful for a moment, and then her jovial side returned. "To make sure everyone gets their money's worth, I will run the same scenario in 48 hours, and everyone who lasted less than two minutes of play time, that means most of you, are invited back for free. This time, no fee, no prizes. We have a couple of days before the players are ready for the next round on mars. There is something important I need to grab before the next game. It’s called The Dot." She winked at the camera. "One little word to our 127 remaining contestants. The next scenario, while being held physically on mars, will not be set there. That would be too easy. Back to you, Debbie."

The feed returned to the CNN television studio.

"Willie, I am looking at the results here, you really did well. Was it worth 100 credits?"

"Fuck," he corrected himself. "Yes, yes, yes," he could not stop himself. "This was the best!"

The producer sent Debbie a message. "I am being told after the commercial break, once all of the results have been tabulated, Electoral will begin to play Emilio's performance. It will play in full real time, and the points will be displayed as Emilio kills creatures. Winners like Willie will know if Emilio reaches their score, and beats them. On the corner of the screen, we will see the percentage of players Emilio has beaten, and how much money he raised for his own charity."

"That's really cool," said the jock. "What a great game."

Debbie could not resist. "I want your charity to win all 7 million, but my heart is with Emilio. Our President is truly exceptional at this interface. I hope he steals back part of that."

“He won’t!” smiled the player.

"Debbie, we all want him to do well. Let's see."