Priya and I jogged through our area. Killing the rams was almost trivially easy now, and I was grateful, because my mind and attention were definitely elsewhere.

I could see other people out fighting, and I hoped that meant that most of the rams would be taken care of… but if even one person abandoned their job, that could mean another gruesome tragedy.

I flipped the walkie-talkie over to the neighborhood channel, to try to ask if all the areas were being handled. It exploded with noise as several people tried to talk over each other. One man was off on an angry diatribe about what he’d do to anyone who stole his points. A woman was panicking, trying to get confirmation that the person who’d committed to clearing her street was still on the job. Someone near to the pillar was peeking out at it and giving a running commentary of everyone who approached it and what they were doing. It was hard to hear any individual clearly, but it sounded like what was happening by the pillar was along the lines of threatening and posturing, without actual fighting. So far.

“That’s distracting,” said Priya.

I nodded and held down the button. “Meghan here. Just confirming that we’re still clearing Lavender and our assigned section of Russet.”

I thought I heard someone acknowledge my words, and I switched back to the blessed silence of our family channel. I’d check in again later.

I killed rams, but my mind was on the Points Siphon. What might be happening. What should be happening. How I could bridge the gap between those two things. What people might do to try to stop me. How dangerous it would be.

It didn’t take that long to clear our section, but it was long enough to get my thoughts in order. As we started heading back, I called home via the walkie-talkie.

“Pointy, I’ve never asked how physically proximate to Cassie you need to stay.”

“The restrictions are generous. I can accompany you to that anomalous building for a moderate period of time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vague, but I could respect the AI’s desire not to give detail publicly. I didn’t think anyone else was on this channel, but I couldn’t guarantee it.

“I need to borrow you for a bit, if it’s okay with Cassie. It could save lives.”

“Nooooo! I don’t want Pointy AND you to be gone!”

“...I’ll give you five M&Ms.”

“Um… Okay!”

Priya snorted and I shook my head. I couldn’t always bribe Cassie with candy, but it was amazing how frequently stubbornness would evaporate when sugar was on offer. Not that I’d done that much lately, but this was important. We couldn’t afford to waste time or argue. I’d bounced my ideas off Priya as they’d started to crystallize, and she thought I was onto something.

We stopped by the house briefly. George's eyesight had recovered, and he met us at the door to hand off Pointy.

He didn’t give us the AI immediately. “Are you sure you should go? People are going to be crazy over there. I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t think you have a good shot at getting the points, anyway.”

I nodded. “Priya doesn’t have to come, but I’m going. This is a problem, but it’s also a huge opportunity. I have a plan.”

Priya shook her head. “You think you’re going alone? No way.” She turned to her husband. “Meghan and I talked. I think she’s right. We need to do this.”

George hesitated, taking Priya’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“I think it’s what we need,” Priya said.

Another breath, then George squeezed her hand and passed over Pointy, nestled in a purse for easy transport. “Go, then. Don’t waste time filling me in. I trust your judgment more than anyone’s. Just… be careful. I love you.”

Priya’s smile was a beam of sunlight. “I love you too!”

And then we were off. It was easy to tell which direction to go, even if I couldn’t tell exactly where the spire hit ground. We were slowed slightly by the need to kill several rams no one had taken care of yet, but we spoke as we moved, not stopping.

“The anomalous building we’re headed to greatly resembles one central to contestant versus contestant fights in the last Maffiyir,” said Pointy.

I nodded. I’d guessed as much. “We might need to get people’s attention when we get there. Can you do like… an alarm sound or a siren sound? Do you have any recordings of those you can play?”

“No alarm recordings, just music clips. I can play some for you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It was surreal to listen to the songs as we ran. Each soundbyte was a reminder of what the aliens had taken from us. Would I ever hear the entirety of these songs again? Even the songs I loved best, I doubted I remembered all the lyrics perfectly. If we found someone with a good memory and a guitar, they could do something similar, but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t know where Lady Gaga or Idina Menzel lived, but I was sure it wasn’t our neighborhood.

Pointy played one clip and Priya outright laughed. “That one! Use that one!”

“It’s not very alarm-like…” I complained.

“It will get people’s attention. And silly is good! It will distract them from fighting.”

I had to concede her point.

It seemed the spire had been placed in the biggest open area in our neighborhood, in front of the pond by the playground. There was already a crowd gathered at its base, and almost every person was yelling. I could see the “gem at the base” the announcement had mentioned, a faceted orb the size of a basketball that glimmered with a much less overwhelming light than the beacon at the top. Carlos, the high-point LARPer from the first meetup, was closest to the base… but he was cradling one hand, and I could see blood leaking down. He wasn’t the only one injured. I could see another man with an already-darkening black eye, and plenty of others looked scraped and bruised. The injured people formed a loose ring around the pillar, and as I watched, Carlos took a casual step closer, only to jump back again as a Missile ricocheted off the ground where he’d placed his foot.

“Loud as you can,” I said to Pointy. “Repeat it until I start talking, please.”

She nodded, and then the sound blasted out.

“HEEEEEEEEEYYYYY MACARENA!”

As Priya had hoped, the sheer absurdity of it snapped people out of their arguments. Mostly to glare at us, but I could work with that. Carlos and the man with the black eye were continuing to shout at each other, so I hit them with a couple of quick Draw Attentions, took a deep breath, and started talking.

Project, I reminded myself. You’re in a huge theater, and the mics aren’t working. I’d done my best to plan this speech with no questions or breaks, nothing that would invite anyone else to talk.

“We have three options. First,” I held up one finger, “We could be good little puppets. We could all fight each other for their entertainment, and let the last person standing take all the points.” I met Carlos’s eyes as I said this, and his mouth tightened.

“Second,” another finger joined the first. “We keep anyone from taking the points” There was a chorus of approval at these words, but I didn’t pause. “We assign multiple guards to this area full-time, day and night, 24/7. That would be a lot of dangerous work. It would be tough finding people who wanted to spend their time and risk their life for that. I wouldn’t want to do it.” The rumble of agreement petered out as I looked around. People were glancing at each other uneasily, and no one was stepping forward to volunteer as a guard. It was one thing to say that no one should steal the points; the logistics of preventing it were another matter completely.

I didn’t stop, holding up a final finger. “Third option. We accept that it’s too hard to prevent the Points Siphon from being used, and we make sure it’s used to send the points to the people among us who can’t earn them on their own. We can-”

I’d gotten pretty far through my speech, aided by the disorientation caused by unexpected Latin pop music, but this was a step too far for many people. While I saw a few look thoughtful, more raised their voices in angry objections.

Carlos’s loud voice cut across the din. “No one’s going to agree to that. The only fair way to determine who gets the points is a tournament. Winner gets the crystal.”

He seemed to have a lot of support from the crowd. I saw several people nodding and heard others calling out things like “Right on!” “You said it.”

I had to admit the idea was definitely several steps above the Battle Royale deathmatch I was worried I might find, but it had a lot of issues.

“So… you’re all going to kick the shit out of each other, and then the person still standing at the end gets the crystal? A lot of people get injured, and the person least in need of points gets the points? Then, tomorrow, I guess we do the same thing again? The person who won today would probably win again. Why would today’s winner ever lose? Seems like whoever wins today is the eternal King or Queen of our neighborhood.”

I could see several people narrow their eyes. It was clear that most people hadn’t considered the long-term implications of this plan. Even Carlos looked a little uncertain, and I pressed my advantage.

“There’s also the problem of making it work. The losers will probably not be in good shape, and I can’t see why they’d be motivated to do a good job guarding the winner while he or she takes the points.”

Carlos’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Guard? Why would they need a guard. They’re the strongest.”

I laughed. “And being the strongest makes you invincible?” I waved a hand at the houses across the street. “Every one of those homes could have a person peeking out the window, waiting to Fire Bolt, Shockwall, Hex, Draw Attention, Freeze, Conjure Flame… Whatever. Whoever wins has to stand there for twelve minutes. It’s gonna be hard to defend yourself while holding the crystal. No one’s going to get it without help. Even if you’re willing to kill or incapacitate dozens of people, it’s just too easy for someone to stand far away and take potshots at you, then run away when you let go of the crystal to chase them.”

Carlos opened his mouth. Then closed it. He shook his head. “It still doesn’t mean we should just hand it to some loser who hasn’t gotten any points yet. I mean, yeah, some people I feel sorry for, but it’s not my problem.”

“Sure,” I said. “It’s not your problem, I agree. But getting points isn’t a problem for you either. It’s probably not a problem for most of us out here now - anyone out on the streets right now is pretty confident they can easily take down a ram. That doesn’t mean we don’t have problems.” I spun around, and pointed randomly into the crowd. “What’s your biggest problem right now?”

The man I pointed at looked uncertain, but answered. “Uh… I guess I’d love a walkie-talkie. I could afford to get one fixed up, but I can’t track one down.”

The woman standing next to him stared, affronted. “Your biggest damn problem’s a walkie-talkie? You have food to waste on that shit? You’re a lucky bastard. We ate the last of our food this morning. That’s a damn problem.”

Carlos looked irritated. “Maybe points aren’t our biggest problem, but this Points Siphon isn’t going to solve those other problems. It’s not going to fucking feed anybody.”

I grinned. What a wonderful straight man you were here, Carlos. “Oh really? I think it could feed us, if we handle this right. There’s a chance.”

Suddenly, I had everyone’s attention.

“What if we gave all those points to one person? I’m not sure how many people it will take from, but even if it’s just a few hundred, someone who doesn’t have any abilities could get at least five new ones. Four, if they’ve taken their first. It could be more - maybe they’ll end up with six or seven, depending on how big the area is. What if we took someone who wasn’t going to earn points normally, and made them promise to take abilities all in one area, and then use those abilities to help the community? They have a reason to agree - it’s an escape from death for them. Even if the abilities they take aren’t very combat-oriented, they’ll be very strong. And we all have a reason to guard them and help them out - we’ll be the first to benefit from their new abilities. I know there’s a food creation ability. It’s pretty weak to start with, but maybe if someone took a bunch of other matter-creation abilities, it would get strong enough to help. Or plant growth? I definitely saw something like that too.”

I’d painted an interesting picture. Most people looked excited, and even those who looked skeptical were thinking rather than arguing - the chance of a sustainable food source wasn’t something they could easily dismiss. I pressed my advantage. “We could do this for more than just food, too. We could get someone to take communication abilities and become our neighborhood switchboard. Even for those of us who have walkie-talkies, the batteries we’ve got won’t last forever.” My family had already used up about half of what we’d scavenged - maybe more, if some of the remaining batteries didn’t have a full charge. “Or shelter. Equipment. Weapons? If anyone here can already do those things well enough to matter, I haven’t heard about it.”

Carlos frowned. “That sounds nice and all, but I’m guessing you’re just making a play to get us to give these points to your kids.”

The suspicion his words caused was instantaneous, but I laughed dismissively. “There is no way in hell I’m letting my kids have these points. At least, not today.”

I could see that people didn’t believe me, and I spread my hands as I explained. “Maybe one of y’all is ready to parent a child who can literally crush you to death with a hug, but I know my limits.”

My honesty and self-deprecation drew rueful laughter from the crowd.

“So who do you think should get the points?” one woman called.

People began calling out suggestions and arguing. Carlos didn’t look thrilled, but the momentum of the crowd had shifted and he had no way to move it back short of punching someone... and I didn't think the rest of us would take that kind of aggression calmly.

I had my own suggestions for who should get the points, but as long as we all agreed to give them to someone for some purpose, I'd won.

This Points Siphon had clearly been intended to cause fights. Murders. I was sure that across the world, tiny kingdoms were taking root, each with its own little warlord.

I couldn’t do a damn thing for most of the world - but right here, right now, that wasn’t happening.