The main lobby of the majestic Holiday Inn Mars was buzzing with activity. The entire staff was glued to a display of some variety. Some watched on advanced traditional displays, others wore a thick pair of Orbison glasses or Screenlenzs contacts as they either watched or played in the Presidential Challenge. Those who played were standing up and twitching like zombies.

"Ms. Wong," heard the CNN journalist in her earpiece; this was not the voice of her producer. The female voice was powerful and seductive. Milly was one of the only people in the hotel working as others played. Her fly-cameras were buzzing around, but nothing being recorded was worth sending down to Earth through the expensive feed. The journalist recognized Electoral's voice. She was two minutes away from her next live segment. "Do you want the story of your life?" asked Marilyn.

The journalist needed no more. "Of course," she replied without hesitation. Marilyn wasn't one to underperform on promised expectations.

"Sophie is in the cells as a prisoner at the moment. She and her father have just accepted my personal invitation to visit and stay at my Center here on Mars for the rest of the competition. For multiple reasons, which some your audience will soon uncover, I am extending you an invitation as well. I wish you to document the visit. Otherwise, political forces will turn Sophie's escapade into a kidnapping, or worse will lobby to disqualify her father. The documentation of our little escapade will be more convincing if you are there as an impartial referee. In essence, all you have to do is act as a journalist. Time is short. To sweeten the deal from your perspective, and since I know you are under contract and aren't possessed of all freedoms, I agree to give you the only thing worth the rupture of any contract: the first and only one-on-one interview with my creator, Georges, once you settle at the Center. During this trip, you are free to record all you want, in fact, I insist you do. I only ask that you wait until we are at the Center today to start broadcasting, past my door."

The offer was beyond generous. In fact, letting Sophie leave the hotel without Milly when she had her ticket punched to tag along would have been a greater issue for her producers. Without hesitation, Milly agreed.

"Can I just give you one friendly warning, to ignore at your own risk?"

"Of course."

"Sophie Lapierre must never be challenged. Never interfere with anything she desires or does. Do not treat her as a young girl, treat her as an explosive ready to blow."

"Why would I do that? I'm a journalist, remember?"

"I know, but this is a word of caution for our collective benefit, not hers or yours. Much greater matters are in play as you will uncover first hand." Milly was surprised by the insistence. There was no time to reflect, Marilyn continued, "Please proceed to the monorail. I will direct it up to the Catapult; it is located well above the Glass Slipper on the other side of the Mons."

"There is nothing up there," said the journalist. She realized the stupidity of her statement the second it came out. She was addressing Marilyn Monroe, the digital creature who had built a full personal Center and a hotel on Mars, singlehandedly, in a few short years. God only knew what Electoral also had in plan for the competition. Milly was ecstatic; a school girl. What could this Catapult be? The name suggested something exceptional. Following the instructions was sure to get her this year's Pulitzer. In the back of the large room, the service elevator doors opened. In complete anonymity, she let the flying cameras return to their docking station on her belt. Once on the way up, she released both cameras. The view of Mars from the elevator was exceptional.

"Milly, we are ready for broadcast here, where are you?" said the producer in her earpiece. The man was in the Lobby of the hotel now a mile below.

"Bob, sorry. I have a code red emergency. All positive, great footage. Will get back to you as soon as I can." She pushed a button and cut the feed.

"You know that button on your pad doesn't really cut the feed down to the studio?" said the artificial intelligence.

"I figured. They have me on a tight leash. Comes with the salary." The journalist was no idiot.

"Since that is a violation of the law, I can legally alter the software to empower the button to work. There, it's done." Marilyn's power over all electronic technology was absolute.

"What is the Catapult? I've never heard of it," she demanded on her way up.

"A surprise. Think Cinderella-style carriage to transport the last thirty-two players who qualify for the five final rounds to my Center. It is a capsule pod that is slid down the mountain which rockets in a perfect trajectory to my Center. Using it cuts the travel time to only fourteen minutes, this allows the players to sleep in this hotel after each game and not be a bother to my father."

"You built it in complete secrecy? It's above the hotel and even the Slipper, how did you do that?" The view was now breathtaking as the monorail accelerated way beyond its design maximum speed. "How is that possible?"

"You and your viewers will not believe me."

"Try me." Milly waited for the answer, it never came. As a journalist, she repeated. "Seriously, how do you build anything here, much less in secrecy?"

"It," the computer selected her words carefully, "wasn't there an hour ago. You will see my nano-technology at the Center." The answer shocked the journalist. That would explain it, of course. "You'll like it, I'm rather proud of the architecture. Very slick."

"A slide down this mountain? You just built it?"

"The more accurate verb would be 'assembled.'"

"Can I film?"

"I guess. I am not one to restrain free speech, but I would suggest you talk with your corporate office to see if they prefer the rating boost associated with its official presentation ahead of Round 26. I was planning a full hour release video. This might damage your ratings. Of course, Sophie will provide her opinions, I suggest you heed them."

The ride up was magical. She passed the Glass Slipper docking area and the monorail continued up for minutes. The view kept improving. When Milly arrived at the last docking area, the doors opened. On a stretcher was the deformed body of Laurent Lapierre. Next to him was the doctor from the Airbus, Susie Shin. The two ladies awkwardly smiled at each other. The doctor was hired to care for Laurent, wherever he would be. Behind them was a small dark access door. The room was darker than it needed to be. The screen on the wall next to the rounded door flashed with all sorts of boarding instructions. Marilyn's face appeared on it.

"Doctor, meet Ms. Milly Wong, journalist at CNN." Both ladies smiled at one another.

"Last time I saw her was in the Airbus."

"Yes," acknowledged Susie. The pod door hissed open. Old light bulbs lit a cramped capsule beyond the door. Ahead, there was no external view; the pod was in the shape of a long closed tube. It resembled some type of underground mining equipment. This was a cramped room capable of sitting, at most, eight.

"Doctor," said the host, "can you please settle Laurent in? It should be simpler than it looks. Ms. Wong, you may take the pilot seat."

"I can't drive this thing," said the journalist.

"Don't worry, I will drive, but the view will be better. Sophie will insist on taking the other pilot seat, the left seat next to her father." Marilyn guided the threesome using the lighting as best as she could. The walls were made of a strange material. As the passengers were preparing themselves, the back access door opened, and a security officer walked in. He was calm and polite.

"What is this place? May I ask what you guys think you are doing?" He was surprisingly civil in the strange context. The man was plainly skilled at collecting information. There was no need for force here.

Electoral had let the man up. "Major, this is my pod, my Catapult, and my guests. They are now going to my Center." The computer's emphasis on her ownership of things was nothing short of intimidation.

"Upon whose order?"

"Not that any order is necessary, but they are here upon my request and invitation."

"What is this place?" The trio was securing themselves to the seats. The low gravity of Mars helped.

"I just built it. As for authority, please refer to Martian code, section 354.121. Look it up." Accessing codes and regulations was not an easy thing.

"This is Mr. Lapierre, correct?"

"Yes, and his guardian Sophie is on her way up right now."

"That is not possible, she is in . . . detention," he said, almost to himself. "No one is taking off before I have a chance to verify all of this and get approval."

"Of course, Major. Let me help you and bring up on this screen the portion of the code I just quoted. It should make things very clear for you. You will not delay this launch. I suggest you move quickly."

The code appeared on the screen. It read:

In exchange for her scientific, financial, and social contribution in association with the development of Mars, Electoral and up to one hundred of her guests are granted an executive privilege of diplomatic immunity while on Mars from any law, rule, or regulation. Electoral/Marilyn and her guests cannot be detained or prosecuted for any crime.

The man was shocked. He knew the law but did not know about this provision. "Really? I have never seen this."

"The section is not widely publicized. It is on a need-to-know basis. You now need to know it. I don't want to pull rank here Major, but I own this hotel, I am the one who contracted with your security firm and your government. I also own your employer, if that helps. I am technically your boss," replied Electoral. The man was outgunned on every front. She was making solid arguments.

"I must verify it," said the security officer.

"As long as you do not interfere with our departure, verify all you want. I suggest you use your phone," said Marilyn. The man drew his waist stunner. "Major, I am doubtful you would ever use this weapon against either Sophie or Laurent. I remind you that a doctor and a journalist are present. You are now truly playing with fire. No one is armed or has the strength to pose a threat to you." The guard left the stunner in the holster.

The door behind the man opened. The young Sophie had arrived next to her stood Gerard, the cook. Gerard was holding a small weapon and shot a stun gun. The security officer fell to the ground. Gerard pulled the body of the officer back in the monorail and made his way with him down after saluting everyone. “I am going to get in trouble for this,” he grumbled to himself.

"What was that all about?" asked Sophie.

The computer on the screen spoke to herself. "Time is too short for bureaucracy. I have opened the Nexus, the Dot is being powered up."

Sophie did not care about the Nexus; whatever that was. She held the large basket of candy. She immediately walked into the pod and touched her father's body. The doctor was taking good care of him. She smiled at the journalist. "I was in jail!" she said to the adults in the room.

"You were, really?" questioned the two ladies.

"Yes. I beeped the alarm, and no one came."

"What alarm?"

"The shoe."

"Oh . . . poor, sweet girl, I doubt the child safety alert works on Mars," Susie replied as she tried to digest what Sophie had just told them.

Milly, from the pilot seat, turned her chair around. "Wow, we're going to the Electoral Center." The pod was elongated in its middle portion like a pain medication capsule. Sophie's trip had so far been less than exceptional. First, her father had become sick, then the Airbus almost blew up, later she was jailed for no particular reason, and now they were cramped inside of a small pod. The girl's enthusiasm for the trip, which had been almost nonexistent to begin with, was further dampened by these stupid events.

"Why were you in jail? That's crazy," asked Susie.

"I know, right? Marilyn gave me those." She grabbed the basket and placed it in one of the two empty seats. "We are fugitives!" she joked.

"We must launch soon, buckle in." The computer character was trying to speed things up and not having great success at it.

"Why are we in a rush?" asked the youngest passenger.

"I have a surprise for you. Someone is warming up from a studio, and it would be rude to make him wait. Also, Laurent's mind operates at a different speed. Minutes for us can turn out to be days for him. Let's not have him wait unless we really need to."

"Another surprise?" Sophie grabbed the little stuffed toy and waved it to the camera. "You plan to beat this?"

"I also have a little theory to test, something important I need and that window is about to close."

The door of the small pod slid shut and locked behind the strange quartet. Sophie got up and after securing her toy in the seat next to her father, belted into the second front seat next to Milly. "I like amusement rides, I always sit in the front of Roller Coasters. This is a ride, right? I want to see this!" This was no Glass Slipper, but it was still designed to allow passengers to feel the full Mars experience.

The front cockpit had windows looking ahead into a dark tube with lights every hundred meters. The Rococo decoration was a stark contrast with the hotel lobby. Every chair was padded with white leather and large studded buttons. All the displays were small, surrounded by colorful square keys. Sophie had seen something similar in an old space opera show. It was named Cosmos 1999. Lights were blinking in rhythm. Marilyn appeared on every screen, the blonde was wearing an old military outfit. Her hair was tucked into a cute pilot hat.

"Welcome. You are going to love the first elliptical bounce. I designed the Catapult with Sophie in mind. Are we all tucked in?"

"I guess," said the journalist.

"Doctor, can you tighten Laurent's blue strap by one notch?"

"Of course," replied Dr. Shin as she jumped to it. Sophie grinned. She knew Marilyn and Dr. Shin both cared deeply about her father and would help her care for him. "Done." Sophie looked behind herself; the doctor had taken the time to wrap the scarf around Sophie's father's forehead, she kissed his strange head and whispered something to him.

Before the launch, the journalist asked, "Is the Presidential Challenge over?"

"Yes. It played faster than anticipated. I am letting CNN fill in some airtime with great footage of some cute soccer player. I will be broadcasting Emilio's performance the moment I launch this pod to avoid detection. That should keep the media busy for the next hour as get you guys up to the Center."

"Did Emilio score well?" asked the journalist.

"Of course," answered the artificial intelligence.

"What do you mean? Did he win?"

"Yes."

"How is that even statistically possible, you have billions of people playing, no?"

"Improbable and impossible are two different things. But your point is well taken. Emilio’s mind is unique in your species, we will discuss this later. As part of the election system, I must be impartial when designing each round. Since the challenge was not part of the competition, I gave myself more flexibility in programming the simulation. To be honest, I programmed it with a single goal in mind: give the victory to anyone except President Sanchez. Yet, somehow, he won again. I even factored in Emilio's unique mind. Statistically, he was going to get schooled." Marilyn looked Sophie's way, "His victory is impossible unless you, little girl, are somehow partly to blame at the moment."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," the artificial intelligence itched to continue the discussion, but she only added, "We'll talk about this once you are safely at my Center. Time is short."

"Do you think he cheats?" asked Sophie.

"No. Other forces are at play here. Unless your father manages to win the 2072 simulation and show the game is not rigged, I fear this will be the last election. But frankly, no one will soon care about my game, something much more important is on the horizon." Marilyn was obviously holding part of the story to herself. She changed the topic. "Sophie, I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor?"

"Yes, an experiment of sorts. It is very simple. As the pod travels up and then returns down to my Center, I would like to play some music, that is all."

Sophie was surprised by the request. She did not care. "Whatever."

"Sophie, the music may make you feel some . . . emotions, is that okay? I do not want to startle you with it. The music will play only for a couple of minutes. If you want it to stop, simply say so." Sophie was unclear what that meant. She would soon find out. She waived the request off. "Sit tight everyone, I will open the clamps."

The metal clamps released the pod allowing it to slide using hundreds of rollers on its outside surface. Air pressure above the pod provided an additional push. They were sliding down on the slope of Tharsis Mons in a subway-like tube. Lights flashed faster and faster as they accelerated. They were heading down a long slide without air to slow them.

Marilyn's voice came on the speakers. "Launch velocity needed is 2,230 km/h. Chute outlet angle confirmed, direction 123.657 degrees North." The speed continued to increase. This was exciting to the young guardian. "Coming out of the tube in sixty seconds," she warned. The ship was rattling slightly on all sides. The girl was smiling widely.

"Thirty seconds." The pod was seconds away from breaking into the atmosphere from its ground rail. On Earth, LO and his band were also ready to start the music.

"Ten . . . nine . . . ."

Then the tube in the ground curved slowly upward, like a candy cane, and the pod slowly began its way upward through the bend. As it did, some gravity returned. That was to be expected as part of any great amusement ride, figured Sophie.

"Two . . . one . . . ."

Then there was light ahead. They raced out of the tube, and gravity was replaced with weightlessness. Eyes needed time to distinguish the details. They were a giant black artillery shell shot from a massive cannon, the pod blasted into the Mars sky. There was, at first, only silence. The group was shot north-north-west along an elliptical trajectory from an opening only hundreds of feet away from the ground. Sophie's jaw dropped. This was majestic. There was too much to take in at once. To their rear, the hotel was quickly shrinking.

Then, before the angle could adjust, soft, beautiful music began; notes resonating against the red backdrop of the planet. The multiple screens in the pod changed. In each Sophie could see LO, the signer she adored so much. The man was playing in his own home, live, it was smashing and shown in tansparency over the beautiful new world. She knew he was there. The first notes struck her deeply, affecting her more strongly than she ever imagined.

"You are live on Mars," said Marilyn to the signer warming up on his stage. The boy and his band were ready; they began to play seriously as the ship zoomed up to the high atmosphere of the planet. The singer saw Sophie and was talking directly to her. Even light seconds away, there was no communication delay. The poor girl was looking at him superimposed over the orbiting moon. The singer felt strange and powerful energy forming around them. Deep inside, he felt like he was there to help her.

LO began to sign.

He knew he would give the performance of his life.

The music formed a bridge between the planets. Normally nothing could move faster than the speed of light, and there were light-minutes between the two orbs. But the connection was somehow live. Sophie's heart was warming as he sang; it was too much. The pod was rising in the sky and the view was even improving. Science was being tested in another meaningful way.

The song increased in intensity. In her own private digital world, Marilyn was standing up in front of her wall of numbers. She was holding an orchestra conductor's baton and enjoying every moment. She was waving it in unison with the boy's beat.

"Fuckers," Marilyn whispered to herself on the screen. "Let's see if you can hold it tied down." Around her there was a vapor of colorful energy.

Everyone in the capsule felt there was invisible energy emanating from the girl. Electoral sent pulses of energy out to the entire surface of Mars. Much like sound can travel in water, the Center was broadcasting in the low-gravity atmosphere. The lack of air would not prevent Marilyn from playing music. On the ground, invisible to the passengers, some rocks began to resonate. Sound travels differently in water, air, or the faint martian atmosphere. But correcting the movement of sound waves, Electoral used the entire planet as a base for amplification of the waves. The sand below hurt. She wasn't broadcasting on Mars, she was using Mars as a giant speaker and it amplified up to the capsule. The word, the sound, grew in breadth and depth as the boy sang to Sophie.

Everyone in the capsule was swallowed whole by emotions. Tears began to pearl on the corner of each eye.

As is the case with most favorite songs, they penetrated below Sophie's most private protections. They opened her heart and made her distill her thoughts in ways she had never previously done. Electoral was closely monitoring her wall of numbers in her world as she watched the girl. LO saw Sophie on the screen in front of him. Her eyes were red with emotion. The song was too much for her. Inside the pod, she squeezed the white plush toy.

"Look!" said the doctor, unable to measure her words as the pod rose beyond ten miles above the ground. The journalist was speechless barely able to react. They were floating in a torrent of invisible energy.

LO continued to play. Something strange was taking place, but that was above his pay scale.

In a low-gravity environment, the best way to travel large distances rather quickly was sheer force. A cannon launch. They were now moving horizontally at 975 kilometers per hour and vertically at only several miles per hour. The music outside was so strong that the entire pod shook. As they translated across the ground, the pod took a minute to reach its apex and began its descent.

With the exception of the speakers needed by those listening to the Presidential Challenge, every speaker on Mars switched to a recorded version of Sophie's favorite song by LO. Each human had one emotional trigger. For Sophie, it was music -- this song by this man. Few songs made her more emotional than a musical version of "Heart Shaped Wreckage." The song was about two children falling in love.

As he finished the song, Sophie remained fixated on the image of LO. She was in a transe. She took the time to look around her at the majestic view. She had held the tears mostly in. She was holding, but her defenses were weakening a hard site for a young lady having lived her father’s misery. The crater was in the distance. Her father was next to her. "Again!" ordered Marilyn. The band resumed the same song. LO knew the girl needed a break. The poor child was fighting very hard not to openly weep. Sophie turned and looked at her poor father, images of her mother flooding through her mind.

"Calm down," said the voice of her deceased mother's in her head. "Remain calm please," it begged. Sophie alone heard Susan, she ignored her.

The voice was too much, her soft spot. She missed her mom so much. Every day she wished she was there. Sophie looked away from the singer and saw the landscape. There was too much to see, she dropped Oscar, the stuffed dog it began to float. The sheer magnitude of where she was hit her like a brick. Slits all around the pod created windows that allowed her to see the entire landscape. In the distance stood three massive mountains. They were on a trajectory to graze the farthest mountain. On the right, in the distance, was some type of long hole in the red ground, a scar. In the black sky she saw two moons, the first deformed and the second in a crescent. She was scared. She was a child in an adult world. Others had warned her. She had to keep it together and not cry.

In a fraction of a second, the journalist and Electoral turned their attention to Sophie. She was tearing up, which was causing all three women to choke. Something else was in play, there was power. Sophie looked around. She was very high, too high for her comfort. The view changed slowly as the pod began to descend. There was not a soul to speak or interfere with the power of the song.

LO was electrifying in his performance.

Sophie finally let herself cry. There was an invisible blast of energy.

The Multiverse hurt.

Outside, in the atmosphere of Mars, something was happening. The martian sky was shimmering, vibrating. Energy was pouring away from Sophie and to the young girl. It was too much, too much, too much. Up, high, colors began. They danced but the young girl was crying.

"Enough!" yelled Sophie, putting her hands over her ears to block the music. At the same moment, Electoral stopped the broadcast. The shimmering outside around the craft was compressed and absorbed by the dark spike of the Electoral Center. The tower sucked all the energy. The trio saw a pulse of bright light emitted from the spike like a flash. It punched upwards to the Milky Way, tearing the Mars sky. This was a rip between worlds, it was going somewhere.

There was no sound.

"What happened?" asked the journalist. She stood feet away from Sophie eyes in tears and felt like someone had just ripped the heart out of the girl. The journalist felt emotionally drained, she refrained from hugging her. She was inundated with sorrow.

"I apologize, Sophie," said Marilyn trying to limit what was sure to come next.

The girl was disoriented, floating in an altered state of mind.

"How is daddy?" she barely stumbled out. The doctor and Susie turned their attention to Laurent. Sophie was wiping away her tears with her sleeve. "How is he?"

"Perfect," reassured the doctor.

The voice in Sophie's mind returned. "I am so proud of you!" offered Susan Lapierre.

She ignored the voice, thinking, "Not now!"

The beauty of this world from the pod was astonishing.

The pod sailed miles in the air and slowed down to the top of the parabolic trajectory as it began to tilt downward. The gravity in the pod disappeared. To the small group, the large mountains and the strange landscape were all that mattered. One of the mountains was getting close; they could now distinguish rocks on its surface.

The descent was not as fast as the climb up. The pod's speed was now only about fifty kilometers per hour. Around the spike, several miles distant, in all directions was a large wall forming a perfect circle. It was hundreds of feet tall and the area inside the wall around the spike was filled with what appeared to be soft black sand.

"Sophie, take a look at this," said Electoral proud of herself.

As the pod got closer to the spike, it passed above the outer protective wall. The sea of sand and rocks around it came alive like water. Waves rose up to catch the pod. It landed in a cloud of smoke that slowed it to a halt.

***

LO had no clue what had just happened. He saw Sophie for a moment in his lenses. He knew her. His song did not seem to have helped her. She was in trouble, and he wanted to help her.

The face of Marilyn returned to the screens in his condo. "Thank you."

"What was that?" asked LO.

"It is complicated."

"Try me," said the singer.

"My test was conclusive. I will need you to come to Mars as soon as possible," said Marilyn.

"What are you talking about?"

"We all know music has a powerful effect on humans. It multiplies emotions. In turn, those emotions multiply a person's state of mind. Sophie is unique in many ways, she is the Attractor. To do what she must, to save this world, she will need you there. You need to be on Mars in person for what comes next. I am willing to pay."

LO had only one image in mind, the scared little girl. He knew he needed to help.

"Sounds fun.”