Loaded Save
Lunch

Jada and Phaedra mist and jump through the trees. Carmen follows using her spear as a pole vault. Twigs break onto the crowded battle below where Hostiles kill the last suicidal Tier Three holdouts. A dragon-type shoots a flame, and fire takes hold of the lower trees. Though daylight helped them navigate for a while, smoke fills Echo Forest and the trio lose sight of each other. Jada and Phaedra mist, then reform on a pair of trees farther away.

PHAEDRA: What was her name?!

JADA: Carmen-!

PHAEDRA: Carmen! My team will be here soon, do you want to fight with us?

They squint into the smoke as fire spreads below. Tier Two and Three scream as they burn alive, turning the forest into a waking nightmare.

PHAEDRA: Curses. Lost her. Jada, shall we end this round?

In broad daylight, the shrieking fungus spews toxic spores at the edge of the forest. Phaedra’s six combat experts look for weaknesses. Colt, Adair, Beta, Gamma, Kappa, and Zeta keep a wide crescent, making it wider when the fungus runs too close.

ZETA: Can it see?

COLT: Maybe!? It responds to our voices!

The fungus swings its bag of spores and runs to Colt. He grabs two arrows from his metal quiver and spikes them into a tree, hoisting himself into a higher branch. The fungus scrambles up after him, but slides down, gurgling. Frustrated. Back in the forest, infected trees collapse as the trail of destruction catches up.

KAPPA: It must be getting tired, it can’t bleed forever!

The fungus lurches toward Kappa.

KAPPA: Colt, Adair! Load it with arrows!

COLT: We tried! It might throw its bag-

KAPPA: Great! One less weapon!

The fungus screeches at Kappa.

Troy sits on the makeshift black chair across from Sophia, then scratches their polka dot gown anxiously. They ignore their contrast with Sophia’s beige pantsuit and steady gaze.

TROY: First off - my pronouns are they, them.

SOPHIA: Sure.

Sophia looks past Troy to the construction sites around the giant black funnel. The dispersed dogs carry along just fine. She subconsciously produces a pile of construction blocks.

TROY: And that’s it - right there - that’s why I wanna die.

She snaps back to Troy.

TROY: Every fuckin’ day of my life has indignities like that - if you consistently felt invisible, why stick around?

SOPHIA: I understand, that’s why I trust Pix-

TROY (quickly): Because it benefits you - You get to live the power fantasy you missed out on-

SOPHIA: What are you talking about? I’m grateful for a lucky opportunity-

TROY: No, you betrayed yourself - you were influenced by the Algorithm and stopped-

SOPHIA: Influenced? I’m escaping the Algorithm!

TROY: Just to behave like a Champion!?

Hostiles far away notice Troy’s passion and drop their construction supplies. Ben - gelled hair, tight gray tank top, red shorts, white sneakers - fiddles with his jammed shotgun near the wispy elemental and three stout bombers. They watch Hostiles leave work to watch the debate, and Ben recognizes a trio of green lizard heads: Renzo. The lizard drops a black construction block and stomps to the amphitheater with other curious programs.

BEN: Rahim.

The elemental with gray skin, thin veiny tattoos, and a tattered white robe turns to Ben.

RAHIM: Yes?

BEN: Keep an eye on that lizard for me. I need to report to Phaedra.

RAHIM (laughing): Certainly Benjamin, good luck.

They nod, and Benjamin heads to the gigantic funnel.

Phaedra and Jada continue through the high branches as the fire and screams intensify below.

JADA: You can end this?

Phaedra mists, then reforms closer to a plume of smoke at the high branches. Glowing orange from below, she rolls up her purple-orange cuffs and spreads her hands, parting the smoke like torn bread. The plume continues up in two columns, and as Phaedra points her fingers, the smoke mirrors her, becoming gigantic gray hands above the treetops. A paracamera emerges from the haze and points at Phaedra.

PHAEDRA: Cover your ears!

As Jada does, Phaedra claps her hands together in prayer. The smoke collides creating a thunderclap that echoes beyond the forest, to the Publican city limits, and the valley where the roads end.

Colt, safe on a branch, loads his crossbow with three arrows as the fungus loses control and sprays everywhere. Adair stands at the opposite side of the fighter’s circle aiming his wooden bow. Gamma has an idea. He springs to life, clapping and dancing artfully to get the fungus’s attention.

GAMMA: Hey, hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa!

The fungus stops, barks, and lunges toward Gamma’s green tunic and flashy capoeira energy.

GAMMA: Lead the shot!

He leaps away, but spores still catch his leg.

GAMMA: Rrrats!

KAPPA: Gamma!

Colt and Adair release the arrows. They whistle for a moment, and multiple thunks hit the fungus. It shrieks and more spores spray from the wounds. It turns manically left and right, then throws its bag at the lower Adair. Adair, Beta, and Kappa instinctively dodge while Gamma trips over his mangled disintegrating leg. Gamma hits the ground as the cloth bag lands a little behind him and a spore explosion blasts his back.

GAMMA: Uck!

The spores burn his tunic and dissolve his skin. The fungus hobbles toward Gamma, now the nearest source of sound.

GAMMA: It’s time, my friends!

Colt drops from his tree and loads more arrows along with Adair. The martial artists stay clear of the dissipating cloud, unsure how close they can get. As a nearer tree falls, the sound is overtaken by Phaedra’s thunder.

KAPPA: The signal!

The fungus stops, overstimulated. Gamma trembles as spores eat his flesh.

GAMMA: Tell Miss Phaedra I hope we dance again!

Colt and Adair loose more arrows as the fungus leaps onto Gamma and claws at his raw skin and oily, exposed muscle. The arrows whistle and thunk solidly. One pierces fully through the top of the fungus’s body - no longer squirting spores from inside. The fungus grunts and keeps tearing at Gamma.

GAMMA: Augh! Please-!

Kappa approaches the fungus from behind and tears three arrows out, opening a fibrous, powdery hole. He jams the arrows through the top of the fungus, and it finally seizes with a wet coughing sound. Gamma groans, barely hanging on. The martial artists and bowmen approach. Kappa lifts the fungus and heaves it far away - it flops onto dead grass at the forest edge. As one final tree is eaten by leftover spores, it leans toward the field and slams onto the fungus, popping it like a bag of leaves. The field goes very quiet, and the crew kneel around Gamma.

GAMMA: Uh...

BETA: Gamma...

They share a pained look, and in the next moment the tension in Gamma’s face releases. Beta takes his hand and the other four fighters put their arms around Beta. They close their eyes in frustration and grief.

In Pix’s chamber, Ben walks past the crowd forming around Troy and Sophia, then arrives at the contraptions that sort bodies and food. He steps past the conveyer belts, onto a rubbery cushion, and looks through the funnel toward the ceiling-mouth. It’s tough to see when Pix isn’t speaking.

BEN: Hey! Pix!

Pix leaps through the forest, staying wide of the fire and shrieking programs caught in the blaze. He hears the thunderclap, understands, and changes direction toward the sound. But in his chamber, he hears Ben:

BEN: Hey!

Pix continues stretching his limbs and swinging through the trees.

PIX: Yes? Do I know you?

BEN: My name is Ben! I need to speak to Phaedra!

Pix keeps swinging through the branches, the smoke becoming thicker.

PIX: Okay, I will meet her soon!

Pix grabs a cold, steely branch that yanks from a tree and throws off his momentum. He’s stunned for half a second, then orients mid-air and reaches for a trunk. He stretches to pull himself toward it.

???: Yo!

Pix looks in the direction of the voice and is forcefully hugged by a program with black skin, jewels, a black shimmering kente cloth, holding the spear that Pix mistakenly grabbed. She pins him against the trunk of a tree, safe enough from fire, still in smoke.

PIX: Who are you!?

Minutes later, Jada and Phaedra sit on a branch while the fire spreads far away on the ground, catching bushes and plants. They no longer hear voices. The paracamera keeps watching.

JADA: What should we do?

PHAEDRA: Help me direct smoke to push the fire away. They won’t be much longer.

Phaedra looks at the camera as she climbs to a lower branch.

PHAEDRA: Is this what you wanted to see?

The eye of Publica stares. Jada mists and floats down to the hot charcoal ground. She tries to mist the smoke, but ends up dissolving her hands. Phaedra lands after her:

PHAEDRA: Good try, beloved. Try thinking, “solid hands push solid air”.

JADA: I can figure it out, thanks.

Phaedra points her palms at the smoke and creates a doughnut hole for them to stand in. She widens it to create a bowl, then a clearing.

PHAEDRA: If we work together, we can move smoke from this area to choke the fire and preserve the forest.

Jada sighs, annoyed at her “mother’s” condescending tone. Does she always talk like that, or is it just more obvious now? She stomps to another section of ashes and trips over a mound. She looks back, gags, and starts coughing. The mound is a burnt corpse. Phaedra takes another stance, flips her hands palms-up, and a bus-sized chunk of smoke flips forward, smothering an area of small flames. This gets Jada’s attention.

Troy sits mightily at the center of the amphitheater and refuses to let Sophia off the hook. They dig into each other as hundreds of programs crowd the amphitheater.

TROY (quickly): And another thing - if you only knew the frustration of people telling you your own alignment!

SOPHIA: You’re confusing gender and alignment.

The crowd grumbles disapprovingly.

TROY: What? Okay fine, wanna talk about gender!? I know, somehow - that I don’t feel like a “female” or “male” program - if we’re asexual does it even matter!? Humans call it non-binary-

SOPHIA: Programs can’t be non-binary, you and Phaedra need different terms.

TROY: Why do we need terms at all?!

The surrounding programs jeer at Sophia. She stops producing construction blocks at the site.

SOPHIA: Troy, I’ve devoted my career to alignment education. Ideally Publica wouldn’t need the Tournament, because we wouldn’t have Hostiles, because they could heal. Then we could co-exist or collaborate to escape.

TROY: But because your research failed, you’re forcing an agenda rather than changing your mind-

SOPHIA: Hostiles can change!

TROY: Then why don’t you?!

The amphitheater whoops and applauds.

Carmen and Pix swing toward the thunderclap.

PIX: Can you prove it?

CARMEN: Yeah, your coder is Paxton Smith, brother of Bethany Smith, living together outside San Francisco, California.

Pix registers the truth from Carmen, but wonders why he doesn’t recognize her. In his chamber, Ben gets impatient.

BEN: Hey! Do you feel what’s going on in here?

PIX: Carmen, I need to talk to my chamber...

CARMEN: Oh, go for it.

They continue through the forest and Carmen sees the glint of a weapon. She digs her heel into a branch as Pix feels the same threat. They dodge as a male fox-type yells and stabs a switch blade into a tree. Carmen rebounds and tilts her spear toward him, pushing past his little knife and impaling the fox against a trunk. Pix continues through the woods and listens for Ben.

PIX: What is it?

BEN: Sophia’s losing control!

PIX: Oh. That is bad.

They spot Jada and Phaedra in a charred, smoke-free clearing. Pix and Carmen climb down the branches while Jada and Phaedra turn to greet them. Their smiles turn to shock: Pix’s head expands as he crumples onto the dry, ashy floor. A hand emerges from Pix’s mouth, then an arm, and a shoulder, and...

PHAEDRA (gasping): Benjamin?!

He squeezes out of Pix’s mouth and steps into the black earth. Pix sputters for a moment then reforms. He’s fine.

PIX: How did you-?

BEN (to Pix): There’s a huge funnel near your mouth. Sorry.

(to Phaedra) We need to talk about Sophia.

PHAEDRA: Ah. Is she in charge, Pix?

PIX: Ben says she is failing.

BEN: See for yourself.

PIX: I cannot look inside my own mouth. I can ask to be spoken to. If programs do not want me to hear them, I cannot.

The amphitheater crowd fully supports Troy. Sophia barely convinces herself.

SOPHIA: What should I have done Troy? Exile myself? Write a strongly-worded letter? Protest for a hundred years?

TROY (quickly): Whatever you can live with, lady! I’ve met programs like you - you say you believe in what you’re doing, but you’re corrupt - your outsides succeed while your insides rot. You push back on me because you’ve disowned yourself, you call me confused because you’re lost - I know who I am, I don’t need to debate that - I’m tired of these conversations - suicide is not a solution, it’s pain management - your desire for power is also pain management, but you don’t have the empathy to see how much pain you’re caus-!

PIX (booming overhead): Sophia?

All programs in Pix’s chamber turn to the ceiling-mouth.

SOPHIA: Yes?

PIX (above): What is wrong?

SOPHIA: Well... I...

PIX (above): Are you fit to lead?

At once, the crowd boos and yells:

CROWD: NO!

Sophia starts to sweat.

PIX (above): Who is?

CROWD: Troy! Troy! Troy!

PIX (above): Troy, you have building permission.

Troy appreciates the enthusiasm, but looks around uneasily at the hundreds of programs in need of structure. From the high ceiling-mouth, Pix’s white hand with black forearm braces pops into the chamber. It continues like a charmed snake past the giant funnel, toward the amphitheater, and the crowd shuffles to make way for it. The hand floats to Sophia, then expands to become a platform. The crowd growls and boos for her to leave. She looks dejectedly at them, then steps onto the platform, and a guardrail rises around her. The platform lifts and follows the rubbery arm back to the ceiling-mouth as the amphitheater cheers. Troy sighs and picks up their crutches.

Away from the forest clearing, Jada flips smoke with Phaedra’s method. Pix pulls his arm from his mouth. The paracamera hums above, watching the reveal. He drops his jaw and Sophia’s platform emerges, letting her stand with Phaedra, Ben, and Carmen.

PHAEDRA: Hello Sophia!

She ducks her head, avoiding eye contact.

SOPHIA: Hi...

Pix snaps his mouth shut.

PIX: I... trusted you.

SOPHIA (turning quickly): Whoa, hang on.

Pix stretches himself to stand as tall as Phaedra.

PIX: I gave you a chance.

PHAEDRA: Why don’t you tell us what happened?

PIX: If my chamber is unstable, I could fail returning to Smith.

CARMEN: Chill cuz, I got your back.

Sophia backs toward Phaedra, Carmen, and Ben.

SOPHIA: I did what I could! I- I thought I could make a good argument. I got overwhelmed.

Jada drops one last pile of smoke and heads back to the tense reunion. Pix stalks toward Sophia.

PIX: You do not appear useful.

Carmen steps between him and Sophia. Ben puts a hand on his shotgun.

CARMEN: Pix, you’re being dramatic. Sophia, do you mind if I determine your origin?

SOPHIA: What?

CARMEN: Your coder. I just have to kiss you.

Sophia looks as if Carmen spoke gibberish. They hear wood crack in the distance and Pix changes focus.

JADA: Hey, it’s fine. Turns out Phaedra’s my mom. Maybe you have family too?

SOPHIA: You believe her?

PIX: She confirmed my coder’s full name as well.

SOPHIA (exasperated): Well, congratulations everyone!

CARMEN: It can wait... No pressure.

PIX (perking up): Does that mean-?

Carmen points her spear at him.

CARMEN: Pix, no. No one’s getting deleted. Especially if we don’t know their origin.

He shrinks to normal size and everyone takes a half-breath before another crack sounds closer. Phaedra, Ben, Sophia, Pix, Carmen, and Jada step together defensively.

Brick sits in his glass office overlooking the Arena of nearly ten thousand spectators. Four building-sized screens broadcast the match in the Arena center. He checks metrics on his tablet, ticket sales are fine, remote viewing is fine. But the match has slowed. Are they giving up?

Phaedra looks into the black wood and makes out three approaching programs.

PHAEDRA: Do you want to work together?!

They don’t answer.

PIX: Live or die!?

Silence. Then crackling from the paracamera speaker:

BRICK (ON SPEAKER): Attention Tier Two - this match will not end until Pix and Phaedra are dead.

The hidden programs skitter away from Phaedra and company.

PHAEDRA / CARMEN / JADA:

Wha-? / Were they Peaceful? / Come back!

Jada runs after them.

In the Arena, immediate boos and hisses. In his office, Brick checks his tablet, now a flood of live dislikes, outraged commentary, dropping viewership. The tablet rings with a call from his media team.

Cyrus sits in the cafeteria as recovering programs shake their fists and throw food at the nearest screen.

PROGRAM: What the hell!? No!

ANOTHER: I wanna hear more, they’re the interesting ones!

YET ANOTHER: Goddamn, Brick!

As Cyrus listens to the uproar, he wonders if Troy had a quick death.

Brick angrily listens on an earpiece.

BRICK: Fine. Uh-huh. Is that it? Bye.

He rips out the earpiece and smashes it against the opposite window.

Jada tries to glimpse one of the three shadowy programs. She mists to catch some tail wind, but it’s too late. She reforms, then sighs. In the next moment she hears distant rumbling and returns to the group. Past the clearing, from another ashy section of forest, Adair kicks through crunchy burnt wood.

PHAEDRA: Adair! Boys!

Adair smiles half-heartedly, and Phaedra sees who’s missing.

PHAEDRA: ...I’m sure he was excellent.

Silence as Adair, Colt, Beta, Kappa, and Zeta join.

KAPPA: ...Did you hear the announcement?

The group hears a rumble on all sides.

On his flatscreen, Brick watches radar of Tier Two Hostiles closing in. The Hostiles could overtake Pix and Phaedra’s fighters. The martial artists barely handled a fungus type, handicapped without explosives and elements. But if he lost Pix and Phaedra, would Publicans still obey him? He types a poll on his tablet, presses send, then grabs his mic and steps into view of the paracameras floating outside his office - broadcasting to the jumbo arena screens.

BRICK: Publica, I understand Pix and Phaedra are becoming favorites. I’m wondering what you all want... Option one: Delete them. Option two: Get absorbed by Pix. Option three: Follow Phaedra out of Publica.

In the forest, the rumble is closer. Ben, Adair, and Colt load their weapons. Carmen stands with her spear. Pix stretches taller and forms his hands into axes. Phaedra, Jada, and Sophia stand protected by the martial artists.

PHAEDRA: Sophia, do you have an ability?

She shakes her head. A quick rustle behind, and a large spider-type leaps from the forest.

SPIDER (with a lisp): PLEATHE DIE!

Ben rips his shotgun and blasts a hole in the cephalothorax of the spider. It sprays black oil over him and the clearing, then thuds into the burnt earth. The rumble is loud.

HOSTILES (OVERLAPPING): I guess I’ll get Phaedra! / Should we gang up on Pix?! / I’ll waaaaatch!

Brick checks the results of the poll and hears boo’s from the Arena. 2% say delete, 43% follow Pix, 55% follow Phaedra. He cracks the tablet in half and picks up the mic.

BRICK: Stop. The match is over.

In the forest, the rumbling stops and relieved shouts surrounds Pix, Phaedra, and company:

HOSTILES (OVERLAPPING): Holy shit! / Thank God! / Phew!

Ben and the martial artists stay on edge as a slender blue dragon-type emerges.

DRAGON: I thought for sure the fire would smoke you out!

A silver diamond geometric-type edges out from behind a tree.

DIAMOND: I was gonna let you oil out then mess with your wounds...

A crowd of four dozen Hostiles emerge from the smoke and surround them. Another spider-type descends on silk.

PIX: But... You were intent on killing us.

The dragon chuckles and breathes warm air over the company.

DRAGON: They want to hear from you... I want to hear from you.

A mountain laurel flower-type creeps forward on spindly roots.

FLOWER: As I persevered this match I found myself less bloodthirsty. I witnessed nobility in Tier Two, as the last of us survived that fire, and awe drowned my ego.

SPIDER (with a lisp): There are enough of uth that we coulda overwhewmed you and ended the match... but den what?

The Tier Two human-types, insects, mammals, reptiles, geometrics, flora, and fungi nod. Sophia huffs.

SOPHIA: Now I’ve seen everything.

The paracamera abruptly opens a small compartment and drops a white glowing transport pad onto the dirt. It wobbles for a second then expands. The para-speaker pops again:

BRICK (ON SPEAKER): Sophia? Weren’t you inside Pix?

SOPHIA: I was but-

BRICK (ON SPEAKER): I don’t care. Pix, Phaedra, step through the pad. Everyone follow.

In the Arena, ten thousand spectating Peacefuls lean forward as Phaedra and Pix flash into view on a transport pad. The huge crowd explodes with relief. Above the Arena in his office, Brick pinches his temples and leans over the mic.

BRICK (echoing): Publica, here are your thought-leaders!

The applause continues as Phaedra grabs Pix’s hand and raises it above his head. The arm stretches so she can lift to full height as well. Phaedra’s crew and the four dozen Tier Two Hostiles appear from the pad afterward.

BRICK (echoing): You’ve cast votes, so go ahead. Anyone who wants to follow Phaedra, leave my Arena.

Half the crowd rises, but then:

PHAEDRA: Just a moment!

BRICK (echoing): Now what!?

PHAEDRA: Before we leave, Brick, I humbly ask if my followers can have a meal in the Golden Hall and leave tomorrow morning!

The crowd exclaims and begins murmuring. Brick buries his face in his hands.

BRICK: God-fucking-damn this woman...

He grabs the mic.

BRICK (echoing): Fine! Anyone who follows Phaedra, line up at the concourse elevators! Fuck it! Sleep wherever you want, too!

Brick slams the mic on his desk, sending a boom through the Arena speakers, and the crowd processes for a second.

BRICK (echoing): To get absorbed by Pix, stay in the Arena! Pix, Phaedra, see me later!

Phaedra’s followers proceed away. The rest speculate excitedly with each other.

Observing the cafeteria screens, Cyrus marvels, also feeling a bit inspired. Though Phaedra is more eloquent, Cyrus knows Pix has a good heart. He notices recovering programs head to the elevator. A few throw smoothie cans to the side and it clicks: Cyrus could get a meal right now. He straightens his polka dot hospital gown and rolls himself toward the crowding elevator.

On the amphitheater stage, Troy stands with their crutches and their own polka dot gown. A few programs bring three screens Sophia had constructed.

TROY: Thank you.

They place the screens on the stage.

TROY (quickly): Folks - I agree with Sophia that this should be a no-kill zone - we’re passengers, not competitors!

The group nods approvingly.

TROY: One of these screens shows Pix’s vision, another: Publican broadcast - the third gives you a view of the funnel so you know who’s arriving - If any of you are bored, spar away from this school - if you’re tired, the classrooms are for rest and tablet time!

The group grunts and hums, still positive.

RENZO (three voices at once): W-What if we get hungry-y?

The amphitheater programs turn toward the three-headed lizard.

TROY: Pix is going to eat soon-

RENZO: I-Is he? O-Our previous food troughs were filled from the Golden Hall, but didn’t you hear-r? T-Thousands of Phaedra’s followers are headed ther-re.

Phaedra’s followers clear out of the Arena while she and her immediate company head to the north exit. About five thousand of Pix’s followers watch as the last six Hostiles of this cycle surround him. Six is an easy swallow: a blue dragon, a fox, a wolf, a diamond, a flower, and a spider. They wait as he looks beyond to the five thousand expectant Peacefuls. Swallowing them will be much harder. He pulls his jaw down and looks at the Hostiles.

Troy’s core drops into their pelvis. The mountain laurel appears on the funnel screen, newly arrived from the Arena. The crowd at the amphitheater murmurs, discomfited.

RENZO: W-While these programs come in - many more are having the first good meal of their lives-s-

TROY: PIX!

As the final Hostile steps through Pix’s mouth, he plants his feet, closes his eyes and musters energy from his partitioned core. He registers a faint call from his chamber, but it’s drowned out by energy surging through his arms as he raises and stretches then to the edge of the battlefield. His fingers extend like spears toward the east and west seats. His long fingertips split into ten each, widening his range. The crowd cheers and splits east and west.

Now the splits break, and a thousand white branches land in the two crowds. Pix drops his head, concentrating hundreds of feet away in the Arena center, and the end of every branch pops open like a vertical envelope. The programs giddily crowd the openings and start stepping into tall pockets. The thousand envelopes clap shut, and bulges of programs travel through the branches toward him.

The programs bump and swell against each other, funneling toward him. The branches sag with the weight of the thousand programs traveling to his chamber. He squats and sinks inches into the dirt as he strains under their weight. His torso and shoulders expand to let them through the partition. He senses excited clamoring as they funnel into his upper arm. He tries to open a bit wider, then like two dams bursting, they fall through the partition into his chamber.

The programs in the stands continue gleefully through the clapping envelopes.

TROY: PIX!?

Troy panics. The amphitheater programs get up from their dark seats and marvel at the event. The funnel screen doesn’t show entering programs. Instead, up above at a wide arc from the ceiling-mouth, two darker portals open, raining two piles of programs into Pix’s chamber. They smack onto the semi-hard black floor, unharmed, but disoriented.

TROY: I need a team to move the funnel under one of those portals!

The husky runs up to Troy.

HUSKY: Which one, friend!?

Troy points, Husky barks forcefully and a crew of Hostiles run with him.

RENZO: W-why can’t you make a new funnel-l?!

Troy gets very hot. They focus on the ground and cause the shiny black floor to ripple. The amphitheater crowd disperses to the gross twin spectacle of the falling Peacefuls.

RENZO: T-Troy, do you even care about leadership-p!?

Troy grips their crutches.

TROY: No!

RENZO: L-let us-s!

TROY: Fine! If any of you gave a shit - listen to this... Uh... these lizards!

Renzo steps up as Troy limps away.

The Golden Hall’s North elevator bings and Cyrus wheels out with a dozen programs. Dozens more have already helped themselves to the array of international cuisine. Among the excitement, Cyrus rolls around a wrecked set of gold and red tables to a United States flag and grabs a plate and cutlery. He serves himself fried chicken, a biscuit, and ladles gravy over them. He grabs a prepped bowl of Caesar salad and squirts extra dressing on top. Just then, the south elevator bings, and Phaedra, Jada, Carmen, Ben, Sophia, the masters, and a few Tier Two Hostiles step into the Hall.

PHAEDRA: Oh, hello!

The crowd of injured Peacefuls wave and greet Phaedra and company.

PHAEDRA: My dears! Please make yourselves comfortable, we’ll talk after everyone’s had a meal and some rest.

JADA: Cyrus!?

Jada breaks from her mother’s crew and runs to him. Though shocked, he places the meal onto his lap.

JADA: Holy shit, I’m so sorry!

Jada falls to her knees in front of him - programs nearby give them space. Ben jogs over and watches their exchange.

CYRUS: It- it’s okay.

JADA (welling up): No, no, fuck - I’m sorry! Look at you! I shouldn’t have thrown you into traffic. You could have died on the spot - I was overwhelmed - it was just work - I wasn’t thinking-!

Jada cries.

CYRUS: I’m fine, Jada - I’ll heal in a cycle or two. I kinda like the recovery center - I mean, the food sucks but-

JADA (sniffling): The food always sucks!

They chuckle.

JADA: Are you sure you’re okay? Can I find you a table?

CYRUS: Oh, you don’t have to-

She gets up.

JADA: I’d like to... I’m sorry.

CYRUS: It’s fine. Promise.

Pix stands alone in the center of the Arena, arms outstretched, thousand-split branches slowly retreating back into his hands. His head feels a bit hollow. His peripheral vision narrows. He looks down at his legs and morphs to release his feet from the deep holes in the ground, but stumbles forward for a moment, squinting at the north gate.

Jada sits with Cyrus and other injured Peacefuls. Phaedra sits one table away with Ben, Sophia, Carmen, and Kappa. The other masters and Tier Two Hostiles dispersed while the Golden Hall fills with hundreds, then thousands of Peacefuls and Hostiles sharing a meal. Carmen sits next to Sophia, who picks at a fruit salad. Phaedra steeples her fingers and leans her purple-orange sleeves on the red mahogany table. Her deep voice cuts through the surrounding clatter.

PHAEDRA: So, you can determine program origins?

CARMEN: Yep! My coder’s brother was being stubborn and didn’t want Pix to have origin-tracing. She gave it to me in case Pix got lost.

PHAEDRA: Ah, that’s sweet... This idea of program families is interesting.

CARMEN: Oh yes! You and Jada share code.

PHAEDRA: Is that all?

CARMEN: As far as I can tell, yes. I’m having fun when I say Pix and I are cousins. We’re not generationally code-related, but our coders are blood-related, so, ya know.

PHAEDRA: Fascinating. I suppose most programs don’t survive long enough to meet their children...

Sophia sips water but it hits the wrong pipe:

SOPHIA (coughing): God - you said-

(coughing) You trace origin through kissing, right?

CARMEN: Yeah.

SOPHIA: With our social adaption - won’t most programs find that weird?

CARMEN: I’m not sure, I have suspicions about this “social patch”. Did you want to try?

SOPHIA (shaking her head): Insane.

Sophia looks at her half-eaten plate.

BEN: ...While you think that over... Miss Ananda, I wanted to talk about Pix’s chamber.

PHAEDRA (turning quickly): Yes, Benjamin! Great to have you back.

BEN: Thank you ma’am. The material is flexible but it’s permission-based and takes skill to manipulate. Sophia’s... leadership style was forceful, but Hostiles didn’t respect her. She and a skinny nonbinary program got into-

PHAEDRA: Wait. Non-binary program?

BEN: Yes ma’am.

At the next table, Cyrus perks up. He wheels over to listen.

PHAEDRA: My my, I hope to meet them - they never stick around long.

BEN: Pix’s chamber is safe, physically. Weapons, abilities, attacks don’t work in there, but they seem stressed. Morale is dropping.

Sophia drops her cutlery.

SOPHIA (to Phaedra): I tried to control the situation.

PHAEDRA: I’m sure you did.

SOPHIA: But just like the squid, even without abilities, Hostiles ruin everything-

PHAEDRA: Forgive yourself for the squid, beloved. What if Hostiles are just more active? What if our domain’s language fuels your frustration?

SOPHIA: Ugh, this again.

PHAEDRA: If your ideals are the root of your unhappiness-

SOPHIA: Ananda, without ideals, what do we even have?

PHAEDRA: Reality.

Sophia nearly falls out of her chair, rolling her eyes.

SOPHIA: Okay, you want reality? Let’s find out who my coder is.

Carmen lights up.

CYRUS (quietly): D- Did you say non-binary?

SOPHIA (to Carmen): Do I need to do anything special? Cross my legs? Start chanting?

CARMEN (laughing): No, just hold still, look at me.

Sophia flattens a crease in her pants and turns. She hadn’t really appreciated Carmen’s bright jewels and kind, dark features until this moment, and finds herself slightly relaxed. They both take a short breath, then Carmen leans toward Sophia for a gentle closed-mouth kiss. Sophia feels a small flutter of warmth, then it’s done. Carmen leans back into her chair and looks down, but impossibly far away. She looks around at the table, then at the crowd of intermingled Peacefuls and Hostiles in the Golden Hall. The weight of the information takes over her system, and she places both hands on the table to keep herself from shaking.

SOPHIA: Yikes, are my lips chapped?

Sophia waits for the joke to land, but the table silently waits for Carmen. Sophia waits, and nerves hit her too.

CARMEN: Sophia.

As everyone at the table holds their breath, Phaedra wishes this meal in the Golden Hall could last forever.

CARMEN: You’re human.

The South elevator bings, and the full, well-lit room of programs turns. Pix sways silently in the red elevator. He squints his dark hockey-puck eyes to see farther. He leans forward into the room, then trips and falls face down on the ornate maroon carpet.

PIX: Humf...

The room rises slightly to look at him. Phaedra gets up from her chair and runs to the elevator.

PHAEDRA: Pix! What happened?

She lowers her seven-foot frame to his side.

PIX: ...hungry...

Phaedra carries him to a buffet island but the silver trays are picked clean.

PHAEDRA: Could some of you share food? Please! He isn’t well!

Phaedra’s martial artists and a few Peacefuls run to fill plates. An intercom near the elevator pops:

BRICK (ON SPEAKER): Phaedra. Pix. Let’s talk.

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