THE GUILD HALL is lively as usual, packed full of Climbers making preparations to head into the Tower, as well as those seeking parties, trading and buying items, and pretty much any other Tower related business. Everything is facilitated by the Tower Interfaces dotted around the edges of the room, computer-like devices that appeared on the same day as the Tower five years ago

The building itself is pretty new, a modern beast of concrete and steel and glass with sleek, angular designs. It’s clear whoever designed it was going for minimalism, as the main hall is mostly empty space to show off the beautiful marble floors. There are stairs on the sides leading to the next level and the two other levels above that, which all overlook the main hall. Great white pillars extend from the ground floor all the way to the ceiling far above, piercing each new level to provide support or simply for aesthetics.

The hall was originally intended for military use, but they decided ordering soldiers into the Tower was not only inhumane, it was also pointless. No need to waste precious military resources when there are plenty of civilians willing to throw their lives away for free. Still inhumane, but sadly unavoidable.

There are Interfaces conveniently located all over the world, ranging from the local laundromat to lavish opera halls and beyond. Someone once told me they found one on the ISS, and I wouldn’t even be surprised if it were true. As much as I’m sure the powers that be would love to restrict access to them, they’re simply too numerous to bother. Bad for them… not entirely good for everyone else.

At least there’s an age restriction on the damn things, though even that varies by culture.

“Hey man!” A young guy flags me down. He’s dressed in some crazy man-made getup of what looks like Kevlar and steel. “Wanna be a Climber? We’re a new team looking for—”

“No thanks,” I say, waving him off.

He shrugs, and a moment later he’s already making his way toward the next poor soul wandering through the front door. When I see the assault rifle strapped to his back, I have to do a double take to make sure I’m not out of my gourd.

“Wait.” I clap the guy on the shoulder, and he spins to face me.

“Whoa, man. Hands.”

I let go and nod toward his gun. “Are you planning on using that in the Tower?”

It takes him a moment to register my question. “Uh… yeah? What about it?”

I look around and see very few people paying attention to the scene. To be fair, I didn’t register the guy’s existence until he spoke to me either. Still… I can’t believe nobody said anything to him. I sigh, and prepare to deliver the bad news. “You know guns don’t work in the Tower, right…?”

He laughs, but it soon dies an awkward, painful death when he realizes I’m not kidding. His body goes completely rigid, and his face drains of all color. As uncomfortable as this is for me, I imagine it’s rather worse for him.

“Y-yeah… o-of course,” he says, eyes swimming his head. “I-I’m not stupid. This is just for… uh… practice.”

I have no response. A few vets I recognize are looking between the two us, possibly trying to determine if this is really happening. The guy turns on his heel and speeds toward another guy dressed like him, tapping frantically on his shoulder. I can’t help but notice the gun strapped to his back as they both flee the scene.

The whole experience is hard to process, one of those surreal conversations that makes me question if the Tower isn’t some form of natural selection. It’s not like this stuff is hidden either, the Guild distributes a guidebook with basic information about the Tower, established over the past five years by Climbers who’ve bled and died for it. It’s common knowledge among people who don’t even care about Climbing.

I shake my head and wander over to a nearby Interface, which automatically brings up my Status when I get close.

Autumn Wren

Lonely Climber

Rank: E+ (10135)

Mission Summary:

Slay the Siren: [1/1]

Difficulty: **

Recommended Proficiencies: Resistance(E+), Power(E+)

Contribution: 100%

Reward: $2,500

Proficiencies:

[Body]

Strength: E+

Endurance: E+

[Skill]

Agility: E+

Dexterity: E+

Perception: E+

[Mind]

Power: E+

Control: E+

Resistance: E+

My gut churns as I read the mission summary, as it confirms what I already suspected. A perfect contribution score is rare, and as far as I know, impossible if anyone else on the same mission is even present. Unless, of course, they aren’t alive when the mission is completed.

“Good morning, Wren.”

I turn around and find Joseph Adler greeting me with a polite nod. He’s a thin man with dark hair and sleek silver spectacles that hide piercing gray eyes, and wears the white and gray uniform of a Guild official.

“Joseph.” I nod. “What’s up?”

“I was just about to call you. This is Ms. Mason.”

He motions to the girl behind him, who smiles and gives a little wave. She has tan skin, blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s wearing what I can only describe as a gym uniform, consisting of a pink top that exposes most of her toned midriff, tight gray yoga pants, and white running shoes.

“She needs to take the exam, but we’re shorthanded at the moment. I apologize for asking…”

Part of me wants to tell him I just got back from a long Climb and to find someone else, but an even larger part of me craves the distraction. Burying myself in work sounds much easier than dealing with my own shit, and it’s why I showed up today in the first place.

I take the chart from him that lists Ms. Mason’s personal information. “It’s fine. I’m not busy.”

“Thanks. You’ll be compensated for the time, of course. Oh, and there’s one more coming—I’ll send them your way when they get here.”

He hands me another file, which I give a cursory glance. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why she’s late. Lucille Walker is somehow just as fierce in her photograph as she is in person, though it’s strange to see her wearing a color that isn’t black.

I sigh and give Joseph a nod, and he leaves me alone with my new, temporary charge. Her file is of more interest to me at the moment. “Perry Mason, eighteen, listed occupation is… Squad Captain?” I glance over the clipboard at her.

She beams a smile so bright I think it blinds me a little. “Cheerleading.”

“Ah.” In hindsight, perhaps a bit obvious. “Well, Ms. Mason—”

“Perry is fine,” she giggles. “You’re not much older than me, right? It feels weird to have you call me Ms. Mason.”

I shrug, and wave for her to follow. “Come along, Perry.”