Pix talks to one of many Arena receptionists. Sophia walks to a white leather seat in the healthcare waiting area. Dozens of ailing programs sit near her, and a flatscreen chatters in the background.

As she sits, she fixes a crease in her beige pantsuit. A program to her left nurses an arm that dissolves into scanlines. To her right, another program’s face randomly cycles through expression, age, and color. A six legged program sprawls along four seats, feet juddering on the white tile.

She looks out to the larger concourse. A sign near elevators notes media coverage, gambling, healthcare, fifteen floors for Tier One, and the Golden Hall. Opposite the elevators, giant colorful signs are designed to lead programs to their seats in the Arena.

The flatscreen near Sophia plays a live broadcast. A clean-cut female anchor recaps the day:

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN)

…In other news, Phaedra Ananda has been sentenced to Tier One for workplace negligence, disturbing the peace, and conspiring…

SOPHIA

She did not…

Pix walks back to Sophia.

PIX

Hello.

SOPHIA

How’d you know to save that little program?

PIX

Instinct.

Sophia gets up to leave.

SOPHIA

…Sure. Well, this is the Arena, I’ll be going-

PIX

Wait.

She begrudgingly pauses.

SOPHIA

What now?

PIX

I have a proposition.

She waits.

PIX

Do you want to get inside me?

SOPHIA

Jesus Christ, bye.

She walks to the exit. Pix follows.

PIX

No – to be absorbed.

SOPHIA

Leave me alone or I’m having you arrested.

PIX

If you follow my plan, you could have food and a break from work. I have endless space to carry programs to a better future.

They step outside. Cars hum through the colosseum shadow.

SOPHIA

Better future where?

PIX

Out of Publica.

***

Cyrus barely sees the operating room: metal implements orbit his oily legs, but he only feels his hips move. A needle jabs his arm. A mid-frequency tone plays his oscillation for the medical staff.

CYRUS

Wha… are you…? 

Nurses and a female doctor mutter over him about potential for instability, bugs, and freezing.

***

Pix and Sophia stand on the sidewalk watching traffic.

PIX

What do you think?

SOPHIA

(sighing)

I mean… I have been bored. What’s it like in there?

PIX

Minimal, but you could always leave. Do you fear the dark?

SOPHIA

Not after a few months in group residence. I conquered that fear systematically.

PIX

Ready to see?

Pix opens up his mouth, but it doesn’t stop at his neck, it lowers past his chest, then his knees, and hits the floor. He pulls his cheeks wider to make a door for Sophia.

PIX

Uhh eh ooh.

SOPHIA

What?

He lets go and his face snaps back.

PIX

Just step through.

Pix pulls his jaw down again. Sophia slowly steps forward.

***

Cyrus lays in a hospital bed and groans. A nurse finishes making the bed beside him.

CYRUS

Where am I?

NURSE

Oh honey, you’re in recovery.

CYRUS

What happened?

NURSE

I’ll get the doctor.

Cyrus tries to move, but his legs are solid. He rustles for a second, but his exhaustion beats him. He gropes around the room for his glasses. As he puts them back on, he squints at the pristine, powder blue recovery room. His oversized polka-dot gown itches a bit, and after a few minutes, the nurse returns with the same doctor.

She scrolls confidently through a legal-sized tablet.

DOCTOR

You’re at 140 hertz which is good. You’re lucky, you have no signs of chipset or core damage. Your upper legs are both broken, so you’ll need augmentation or a wheelchair.

CYRUS

What’s aug- augmen-

DOCTOR

Augmentation would mean responsive braces. They’re offered to bipedal programs.

CYRUS

Bipedal?

Doc pinches her forehead and sighs.

DOCTOR

Two legs.

CYRUS

Will I work again?

DOCTOR

You could work with either option.

Cyrus thinks for a moment.

DOCTOR

How about you decide with the nurse? I have a lot of programs.

The doctor turns to leave. As she gets to the door, Cyrus decides.

CYRUS

Wh-wheelchair please.

DOCTOR

Okay, the nurse is on it, take care kiddo.

She passes the tablet to the nurse and leaves.

***

Sophia walks in a black void. Every step sounds wet, but her flats and pants stay dry. For minutes it just continues. About a hundred feet above, she sees two small lights, blinking every few seconds.

She bends down to touch the floor, and as she stands still she sinks a little. As she shuffles her feet, the material hardens.

SOPHIA

Pix?

Overhead, his mouth lets in light as he speaks.

PIX

Yes?

His voice booms like a cathedral organ. She impulsively stands with respect.

SOPHIA

What’s this material?

PIX

It is invented by Smith. I do not think he has a name for it – but it is supposed to be infinitely scalable. Humans would call it a dilatant Non-Newtonian fluid.

SOPHIA

Can I move it?

The black floor simmers beside her.

PIX

I believe so. You have to focus your intent.

Sophia squats again and frowns at the floor.

SOPHIA

You know your coder?

PIX

Yes.

She keeps staring.

SOPHIA

…Come on… block.

A black block shoots up from the floor.

SOPHIA

Oh! I did it!

PIX

Excellent. Keep trying and you will be able to create more easily. Soon you will only be limited by your imagination.

As his voice echos, Sophia smirks at the block.

***

The nurse lowers Cyrus with a steady arm into a new chrome wheelchair.

NURSE

Alright, you’re good to go. Mind if I ask a survey question?

CYRUS

Not at all!

NURSE

Why wheelchair instead of augmentation?

CYRUS

Oh.

He rolls a bit, testing the wheels.

CYRUS

They seem dangerous.

NURSE

Well, they’d line up with your chipset. They have a 100% success rate, I’m coded for honesty.

CYRUS

I’m not worried about me – I worry about hurting others.

NURSE

What? You got a “dark lonely serial killer” thing going on?

Cyrus chuckles and slowly turns 360 degrees.

CYRUS

No, no, I… don’t want power honestly. It’s too much responsibility.

He catches himself in a mirror and adjusts his thick round glasses. The polka-dot gown barely hides his bony shoulders and thin wrists.

NURSE

Suit yourself, hon. You can head out to the left and follow signs to rest quarters.

CYRUS

Thank you!

The nurse smiles as Cyrus wheels himself out.

***

Pix steps out of an elevator into a vast gold-decorated dining hall with three thousand, four hundred eleven Hostiles. The smell of hot pastries, cold seafood, fruit salad, and smoked meat fills the room. Human national flags hang over matching cuisine.

PIX

Interesting.

He follows the red carpets toward a Japanese flag. On all sides, he sees programs much more clearly than the sorting line where he met Sophia.

SOPHIA

(in Pix’s chamber)

Where are you? That smells great!

PIX

The Golden Hall. There are many fascinating programs here.

Pix passes programs of all types: human, insect, mammal, reptile, geometric, floral, and fungi. They enjoy decadent meals. He approaches a round mahogany table of five: a three-headed lizard, nude woman, pyramid, young jock, and worm.

PIX

Hello.

He sits, and the smiling three-headed lizard takes a bite of sushi. The heads speak as one:

THREE-HEADS

Ey-y.

PIX

How are you?

THREE-HEADS

E-enjoying the only good meal in Publica. Didn’t get natural speech synthesis eh-h?

PIX

What do you mean?

WORM

They mean your tone. You sound robotic. We have natural sounding voices, but you sound just a little off.

PIX

Oh.

The group laughs a bit. Pix observes their buffet, a spinning ring of sashimi, nigiri, and rice rolls fat and long. He fills a plate as a voluptuous dark-featured nude woman leans forward.

NUDE WOMAN

I managed oodles of traffic – millions of views per minute – people adore sex, it’s fabulous.

WORM

Interesting. But you’re not considered Peaceful?

NUDE WOMAN

Ugh, malware associates flagged me in sorting.

THREE-HEADS

G-Guilt by association is bullshit-t!

Pix takes in these programs as he eats. At the far end of the table, a pearlescent upside-down pyramid floats with clusters of other pyramids.

PYRAMID

DIS IS SO MUCH HULLABALLOO. WHY DON’T DEY DELETE US ON SITE!? ISSA FARCE.

The jock with gelled hair retorts:

YOUNG MAN

It’s not exactly a farce, bud.

The table turns to the young man. Pix pops three rolls.

NUDE WOMAN

Ben. Baby. I love entertainment, but this is extreme. Televising genocide for sport?

The woman switches her crossed legs. She eats delicately and makes easy eye contact with Ben.

BEN

I get that, but we all have the cards we’re dealt. Why not make the best of a bad situation?

THREE-HEADS

O-Oh you must be new-w.

PYRAMID

LIVE HERE FOR MORE’N TEN CYCLES, DEN TELL ME ABOUT “BEST OF BAD SITUATION”!

Ben shrugs, takes a bit of sushi, and adjusts his tight gray tank top and red shorts.

Three-Heads claws for a few mouthfuls of futo maki. Everything except his tongue is bone-dry. The heavy mahogany table barely moves as he presses his weight forward.

The white worm settles in his chair, swallowing some gomae.

WORM

I honestly love deleting… but I have no illusions of being a champion like Brick. It’s remarkable to survive seven cycles.

PIX

What is a cycle?

Pix takes another mouthful of sushi.

WORM

A tournament, a week. Say, you’re eating a lot there – wanna leave some for us?

***

In Pix’s chamber, sushi falls on Sophia’s lap, and she giddily takes bite after bite. The years of gel, paste, and “smoothies” were almost worth the catharsis of a proper meal.

***

On his way to the rest area, Cyrus rolls up to an old, pastel-pink vending machine with large, clear tubes to the vaulted ceiling. He taps the easel-sized screen for pop-ups of minimal food packets and smoothies.

He taps a brown and green smoothie: “Fruit and Leaf Gel”. The machine beeps a tune and vacuums a can down from the ceiling. It clatters into place under the screen. He takes the can in his lap and wheels toward the rest area. Peacefuls chat quietly under a news broadcast.

SCREEN

(distant)

This afternoon, the Education Bureau reported a missing teacher, Sophia White – program name WIKI_S_V2.05.03. She taught Publican ethics for five years near the Sorting Bureau and was a pioneer in mixed-alignment education.

Cyrus wheels past ceiling-high, concrete columns all with screens suspended at ten feet. He stops at the edge of a long, birch cafeteria table and pops his can of Fruit and Leaf Gel.

SCREEN

(above)

…Last seen at the Sorting Bureau yesterday afternoon. One officer heard her yell “No!” to a Hostile, then saw them use a private exit. The Hostile in question is Pix – program name PIXABYTE_PRIME_V1.0.

***

In Pix’s chamber, Sophia sits heavily in a black block armchair, surrounded by flecks of rice, fish, and seaweed. She laboriously swallows.

SOPHIA

I… haven’t eaten like that… in years.

PIX

(overhead)

Good.

***

Pix’s table converses further.

NUDE WOMAN

What’s “good”?

PIX

There is a program inside me named Sophia.

The five laugh in disbelief.

THREE-HEADS

Y-Yeah, there’s three in me too, and they’re all stooges-s!

WORM

Ha, while we’re fantasizing: I’m retired and run a botanical garden!

PIX

I am a limitless storage container.

The table laughs even louder. The surrounding tables look over – surprised anyone is having a good time.

TRIANGLE

LIMITLESS! EEE! DIS GUY, WHADDA CARD!

PIX

It is true! Smith coded me to hold as many programs-

NUDE WOMAN

Oh you know your coder!? Listen, if anyone knows storage – it’s me – I handled pornography on the internet, darling. Do you know how much data we move? Petabytes in a month. Exabytes in a year. Every program has limits.

PIX

I do not. I suppose you will find out soon enough.

BEN

Haha, maybe. Hey, how about a toast? To the calm before the storm?

The table whoops and clinks their glasses of sake.

THREE-HEADS

H-Hear hear-r!

PYRAMID

MAY WE DIE QUICKLY IF AT ALL!

***

Cyrus sips gel and watches a male anchor on screen above.

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN)

Pix was also identified in the following auto-cab security footage. This Tier 1 Hostile will compete tomorrow and hopefully never be seen again.

CYRUS

(quietly)

Wait, he saved me.

ANCHOR (ON SCREEN)

(above)

And now a word from our seven-time reigning champion, Brick!

On screen, Brick slowly stomps up to a podium in his minimal glass office. They don’t come bigger. He’s all muscle, gut, and veins – bursting with body hair, wearing what looks like brown fishing overalls without sleeves.

BRICK (ON SCREEN)

Evening everyone. Tomorrow’s the day you’ve been waiting for, I’m sure the Hostiles are gorging themselves, and you Peacefuls are getting ready for another hell of a show. Tonight, I want to remind you why we’re all here.

Cyrus takes a last sip of his Fruit and Leaf Gel and eyes Brick.

BRICK (ON SCREEN)

None of you know your coders. This forces you to be present. If you knew your coders, you’d climb up the walls, contact them, beg for escape, upgrades, stability, whatever. That’s bullshit. You get one life, programs. None of our days are promised, so you might as well prove yourself every waking moment. That’s why I’m breaking records. Every cycle, I prove myself. For seven cycles, I’ve met the strongest Hostiles in Publican history, and shown them the truth: I’m stronger. I will not be beaten again – so enjoy the show Peacefuls, and get your rest, Hostiles! Tomorrow’s gonna be a fucking banger!

Cyrus shakily puts down his can. He pats his frumpy gown, takes a deep breath, and looks around the echoing cafeteria for a kind face. The programs that haven’t gone to bed solemnly finish their rations.

Past the tables, he sees a few tablets in cubbies. He heads toward them and wonders: Why did Pix get designated Tier 1? The category reserved for monsters, maniacs, serial killers, war criminals? Kidnapping isn’t anywhere near that bad.

He gets to a used-looking tablet, a few searches reveal he’s only a few floors below Pix’s quarters. He sees a warning about visiting Tier One: “After 11pm, Hostiles are secured behind neutralizing bars. You may visit and converse with them. You assume full responsibility for any physical, psychological, or capacitive harms that occur on these floors.”

He flicks away the warning, quickly sighs, grips his wheels and 180’s toward the elevator. If Pix is deleted tomorrow, Cyrus wants to at least say “Thank you for saving my life”.