My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edges of my seat. The objective was straightforward enough; all I had to do was kill my opponent. Still, dread crept from the pit of my stomach to cloud my mind.

In the first round, I could hide among the chaos and take advantage of other fights to pick off my opponents. Everyone to some degree had to keep their eyes swiveling around them, never focusing on one target for too long. In a duel, there was no such hindrance. Every ounce of energy went into ending the life of one being.

I had no idea if any kind of balancing heuristic went into picking my dance partner. Would it weigh my strength and reputation ranks against the other contestants in the Cohort and find the most equal match? Would I be paired with Hercules just for the sake of entertaining slaughter for some depraved oligarchs? Then again, there was always the chance that the algorithm was entirely random. Fate often chose the most thrilling outcomes herself.

“Warriors, gentlefolk, heralds of glory, lend me your ears!”

Dolos’ booming voice derailed my train of thought. The imposing tone that could come from his slender figure still surprised me.

“You will learn one thing in your time at LimeLight, should you live long enough.” He chuckled. “We are an organization that prides itself on results, and our main product here is some good old fashioned entertainment.”

I noticed the screens behind him had gone black. The cameras were no longer rolling.

“It’s not enough to win a round. You’ve got to do it in style. And if you don’t have style, you’re going to have to invent some. Our benefactors pay a lot of money to keep the lights on, and we don’t like to disappoint them.”

His face grew stern. It lost some of the showmanship it sported during the recording, but a persona like Dolos could never fully disassociate itself from theatrics.

“I will leave you with this. The audience is frequently polled on their favorite contestants, performances in rounds, and the best highlights of the week. And well... in all my years of LimeLight, an unpopular or unremarkable contestant has never made it past the fourth round.”

Dolos clasped his hands together.

“ATHENA! Take them away, please.”

White light. Movement of consciousness. Dematerialization. You get the picture.

Except this time no destination appeared. I found myself stuck in the limbo of a stark white room with nobody in sight. Did something mess up?

The gaudy host’s words echoed in my head while I was suspended in oblivion. Unremarkable. Unpopular. That’s all I’d ever been. Hell, that’d been my greatest strength. My ability to clock in, avoid responsibility, and clock out was the reason I could hold my job down so long. My unsuspecting demeanor in the gambling halls of backwater Cornell City had led to some of my cleanest victories.

Now I had to be somebody.

“Your Duel Round will generate shortly!”

If I had a heart, ATHENA’s voice would have stopped it.

“Please allow me to explain the rules of the duel.” ATHENA cheerily continued.

“Two contestants are spawned in a carefully designed map of features unfamiliar to either person, based on their round histories and personal backgrounds.”

Well, that’s good at least. Some thought and design went into the creation of our battleground. Perhaps the same amount went into balancing competitors?

“Your environment is fully interactable. You are encouraged to use every piece of it to your advantage. This includes AI indigenous to the instance. Don’t worry, the only people in the instance are yourself and your opponent!”

Hold on, AI?

“The only other rule is to put on a show! You can bite, kick, scratch, claw, lie, hide, and steal as much as you want. Anything you can think of, you can do. Do you have any questions at this time?”

“Yes, are rankings taken into consideration when choosing an opponent?”

“Not at all!” My AI confidant chirped.

Great.

“The round is beginning now. Good luck, and Fight On!”

A cacophony of sounds bombarded me as the slate palette of my surroundings came into focus. Passerby chatted to one another idly, walking along the edge of a concrete platform. The vibration of whooshing air permeated the atmosphere. I heard the persistent hum of energy flowing along the gleaming rails below. A LiteRail glided into view on the far side of the platform.

The vaulted glass roof of the building hovered several stories above, making space for a complex web of LiteRail tracks on several planes of height to evolve. I counted at least four levels of track wire, with platforms levitating up and down to accommodate arriving and departing passengers.

I gave the station extra marks for interior decorating. It was a curious fusion of modern and retro that worked well together in a way I couldn’t quite express. The concrete platforms powered by lightly pulsing gravity manipulators attached snugly to the granite foundational floor. Lavish red carpets led from the main entrance to the maze of gates that led each commuter to his or her vessel of choice.

Lambent fixtures of bold pinks, turquoises, and greens illuminated the names of prospective destinations. Cherry Boulevard - Yellow Line, Dartmouth Lane - Green Line, Ellington Street - Blue Line, and on it continued for each of the platforms.

There were LiteRails in Cornell City, of course, but nothing like the sprawling feat of transit that unfolded before me. The majesty of the scene made me forget for a few moments I was in a pitched battle for my life. Oops.

That’s when the incredulity of the situation hit me. ATHENA had mentioned the AI, I know, but seeing the thousands of life-like figures moving about and interacting with one another put this battle in a whole new league entirely.

These weren’t just your average folk, either. That would put competitors of other species and more extravagant attire tastes at a disadvantage. I saw a green-haired woman walking about in a silvery dress with steel pauldrons. She wore a gold-embroidered saber at her hip. A hulking Undu, undoubtedly of the Crusher Caste, spoke in hushed snarls with a helpful looking attendant near the front entrance. Two Retans walked hand-hand in hand-hand along the Green Line pathway, stopping when their chosen platform gingerly lifted them up to the fourth level. They both had an arsenal strapped to their leather girdles: spiked maces, pulsating vibroblades, several pistols, and even a grenade.

A few security guards outfitted in gray-blue fabric studded with ballistic plates, but they seemed completely undisturbed by the scene. This was an everyday occurrence to them. At least, they were programmed to think so.

I became aware of how suspicious I must look gawking at the scenery. I stood situated in the rear corner of the building, far away from most of the crowds. Several men in a pattern of suits sat along a row of benches back here; mostly dozing off or scrolling through their personal devices. Other than a few vending machines and a green sign that said “Exit” over a push-door, there wasn’t much back here.

The AI hadn’t taken notice of me yet, but I wanted to test the limits of their sophistication for my planning purposes. I couldn’t act too out of the ordinary or I would risk catching the attention of my equally disguised opponent. If I knew a thing or two about spawning into a fight, though, odds were my enemy had generated on the far side of the map.

Striding over to the man in a burnt sienna trench coat and a felt bowler hat, I assessed my options. I could always try talking to him but let’s start more subtly.

I leered down at him obnoxiously, stealing a glance at his PD. It was full of randomly generated text on a news site called “The Righteous Lark.” Creative.

He didn’t take note of me.

I stepped up my encroachment, placing my foot on the top of his wing-tipped shoes. Again, nothing.

Looking about for any piqued interest in my activities, I found that I was mostly concealed by the edge of a corner wall. Unless my enemy was one of these daydreaming fellows it seemed safe to ramp up my experimentation.

I shook the man by the shoulders to no avail. I spat in his face and he casually wiped it away. I pinched him on the cheek like a little toddler and cooed.

Huh. Imagine how funny it would be if this was my enemy all along. Oh, I’d be dead for sure, but it would certainly go on a highlight reel somewhere. Maybe bloopers.

“Listen bud, are you going to do anything?”

“I’m waiting for my rail. 13:00 sharp, that’s what the lady said.”

“I’m going to slap you shitless, you hear me?”

“Bathroom is down the way a bit, towards the Blue Line. It’s on the left. Just hug the wall and you can’t miss it.”

The man raised a hairy hand to point the vague direction of the facilities.

I slapped him as hard as I could in the face. His head slammed against the green tiling of the wall and a trickle of blood fell from his lip. He didn’t respond, lowering his head back down to the glow of his PD.

Interesting. They gave back semi-relevant dialogue when prompted, but otherwise ignored your actions - even when violent. That could give me a good opportunity to blend in and set a trap if necessary. That also gave my opponent the same chance.

I didn’t want to escalate my violence any further on the poor guy, it might attract undue attention. Security may get involved if I start offing people but I couldn’t know for sure until it actually happened.

As I turned to explore the grand lobby another idea crossed my mind. I activated my neural-optical chip, scanning the wrinkly face of the middle-aged man in the chair.

Current Emotion: Bored, Idle

Physiological Status: Stable, Unbothered

Pupil Display: Error

Error? I scanned again.

Pupil Display: Error

Nothing popped up in the window that ordinarily gave me a live-feed of what my target was looking at. This was remarkable. For some reason, my chip could read it’s emotions based on facial expression and physiological status based on scanned vitals, but not detect a reflection in its pupils.

Checking the other bots down the row confirmed it. None of them had a readable pupil reflection. This could be a fool-proof way of determining who my real opponent was. Granted, I would have to be staring them in the face to do so.

Satisfied with my observations, I strode out into the main lobby. I watched the sleek chassis of a departing LiteRail cart slide out of an opening circular portal into blackness. So either it was night time or nothing generated beyond the walls of this station. My curiosity piqued once more at this. What would happen if I rode a Rail out of here?

I hopped on to the next available cart. Squeezing past the disembarking party, I made my way onto a cushioned bench next to the door. An older looking fellow with a loud birthmark on his throat and wavy pepper hair sat down across from me. Several other pedestrians filed in behind him but this one took a special interest in my face - as in he kept staring at me.

I scanned him, but the squint in his eyes prevented my chip from getting a proper read on his pupils - AI or not.

Current Emotion: Interest, Curiosity

Physiological Status: Mildly Excited

The man stood up, straightening out the cloak that billowed from behind him. I noticed the holstered revolver strapped to his waist.

“Say, do I know you?”

“The train was supposed to depart three minutes ago. I’m going to be late for work!” I replied lamely. Hoping to pass myself off as a product of the simulation.

The older gentleman gave me a confused look. He tried again.

“No, no. I was asking if I know you. Are you friends with John? My son John Bertram?”

His continued line of questioning stunned me. It’s possible that this was a more sophisticated AI naturally interacting with me. If it were my opponent, he just might have dementia.

“No, I’m afraid I do not sir. Apologies for the mix-up.”

“Ah, damn. My bad.” The man sat back down and idly fiddled with his boots.

My fingers snaked towards the handle of my Thurma, just waiting for him to try something.

The LiteRail doors slid shut and the vessel puttered to life. I took my attention off the peculiar senior for a moment and watched the station trudge by through the windows. Before long the darkness of the outside enveloped our vehicle.

A light came into view, and as we neared it I saw… the inside of the station. This time, we were up a bit higher though. In fact, it was the second-highest level, just below a web of tracks that loomed about 20 meters overhead.

When the doors opened I made my way out onto the adjoining platform. My conversant followed me out and I prepared for a hail of gunfire, but he merely passed by and continued on to a descending platform.

So the trains led from one entrance to the next, taking you to different levels of the station. Awfully frustrating for someone just trying to get to work on time.

I pondered my next move. Now that I knew some of the mechanics of the place that I could employ to my benefit, I had to start narrowing down who my quarry could be. There were as many bizarre-looking folks as there were bland pedestrians. Every other person carried a weapon of sorts - nobody could look out of place in this smorgasbord of life.

Deciding to ride the trains for a while and see if I couldn’t figure out a pattern to its translocation, I walked over to the next available car and sat down. A fat man and his wife took up the row on one side and a small crowd of schoolkids engulfed the other, so I elected to stand and hang on to a railing.

My paranoia started to creep in. Any one of the people in this car could be my opponent. I assumed I had the edge with my chip, but what if they had some kind of thermal equipment that didn’t even register AI heat signatures? What if I had already been pegged and my adversary was setting up an ambush?

I tried to keep my mind off my fear, but couldn’t help but compulsively scan each person close enough to register.

Pupil Display: Error

Pupil Display: Error

Pupil Display: Error

Pupil Display: Error

I frustrated myself in this manner for what felt like half an hour. For all that time, it seemed like the trains moved about and reappeared in random locations. I couldn’t decipher any kind of trend.

“Put on a show!”

Yeah, anybody watching this right now had probably fallen asleep. I would rather watch a commercial than this crap.

I sagged in my seat and looked about. A slovenly fellow with a ripped pair of jeans and tank top had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I could feel his drool falling down my sleeve but I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

Across from me sat a pale-skinned woman with red eyes. The sable, skin-tight outfit she wore melted into the shadowy hue of a facemask. Her spindly arms rested gently on her thighs. Her get-up had a hood, but it was lowered to reveal a bald head covered in purple, scraggly tattoos.

I had seen a few Dralid in here already, but it was still an odd sight to witness them walking unmolested among the other prime species. Their kind didn’t like to dwell far from their cavernous homeworlds. Both a sense of elitism among their people and suspicion from the other species kept interactions with them a rarity.

I couldn’t read her expression or physiological signals due to her face covering, but out of idle curiosity, I scanned her pupils.

The pupil display popped up in the bottom right corner of my display.

In the live-feed on my HUD, I could see what she saw: my green eyes, chestnut brows above furrowed in concern.