Ember brushed her leather boot through a faded stain on the worn beige carpet. She was the last one into the ‘stronghold’ and lamps were already being switched on ahead of her in service of three more evaluations similar to her own. For a two bedroom apartment it had a fairly spacious central area which connected a living room, a small dining area, and a tiny kitchen. It was floor to ceiling with the cheapest junk imaginable, like water damaged particleboard furniture from China and filthy garage sale castoffs.

July and May didn’t seem particularly bothered by any of it, but she saw December balefully roving his eyes over a discolored spot on the wall where a drink had been spilled and ineptly cleaned up long after the fact. Ember regretted flopping down on the futon when she felt the metal tubes supporting the thin cushion hit her right through it. The look on her face must’ve spoken volumes, because December traded glances with her and raised his eyebrows with a sigh. This was not their scene.

“Wikitown,” SOFI explained, “is rich in knowledge.”

“SOFI, which districts are just plain ol’ rich?” Ember said.

“Redlight, Dox, and Rainforest Ring.”

“That settles where we’re going next. I bet there’s an age gate in Redlight, though. May, are you even over 18?”

“…yes.” May said, clearly too used to fielding the question to get rankled. SOFI pulled up a map of Noumea on Ember’s Eos and knelt on the screen, zooming it with her palms and pointing to the districts adjacent to Wikitown.

“You can expand to any district. However, the closest and most logistically favorable is the Old City. The foundation of Noumea.”

May opened a tall pantry in the kitchen and found an equally tall stack of instant ramen. If she removed any of the ramen from her level it would have sent the whole pile topping down on her, so she struggled on her tiptoes to get one from the top. Just out of reach. Ember helpfully waltzed over and picked it out for her, handing it to her and patting her on the top of her head. May’s pink irises blazed upwards at her and Ember heard some of the noodles crunch down inside the package with the force of the girl’s angry grip. July walked over to the kitchen and eyed the ramen.

“Don’t much like that stuff. S’there anything else?” July said. Ember opened a few of the other cupboards.

“Spaghetti.” Ember said.

“We got any sauce?”

“No.”

Both she and July were then ejected from the kitchen area with a series of forceful shoves from May.

The bedrooms were on the small side and each was dominated by a sturdy lofted bunk bed in a pale mission style, similar to a college dorm room. A couple of desks and drawers were crammed into the remaining space. Especially worrisome was the presence of only one small closet. It was sure to be a battleground given that she was going to be sharing the room with May, and the girl had a fashion sense of sorts. It was good preparation for college, at least, where she imagined very few students were liable to duel her over roommate problems. At least there was a bathroom attached to each bedroom with some toiletries already in it. If there was one bathroom for the four of them she might defect.

“What if she kills me in my sleep?” Ember wondered quietly.

“Combat is not allowed inside of Strongholds.” came SOFI’s response.

“I can just stay in here the whole time, then, with the Mandate?”

SOFI opened her mouth as if to explain, then thought better and gave Ember a self-assured smile.

“You won’t.”

Back in the kitchen May was doing a fine job of boiling water. Next to the pot she had a line of four bowls out, each of which had a rectangular prism of dried noodles lying on the bottom.

“You’re making it for everyone?” Ember said dubiously. Instant noodles, but still. In lieu of a verbal answer, May turned around in place from where she stood at the stove and stuck her hand out, whereupon her fingers brushed against the fridge and the cupboards opposite. The kitchen was so small that even Ember would come to blows if four people were ducking in and out of there individually trying to prepare something.

“Keep out.” May said, seeming to be annoyed even by the thought of the crowding. Ember put her palms up in deference.

December was looking incongruous in his expensive suit sitting with his legs crossed on the cheap futon. The chintzy flatscreen was illuminated by the Network News Network. Everyone was getting quite at home except July, who looked like he was fixing to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ember asked.

“Figured I’d go down to the Supermarket article and get some damn sauce. Got beer there earlier.” July said. Ember looked over to May in surprise. Millions of rooms, and they came that close.

“Hey,” May said, “I don’t think you can take anything out of Tow. I tried to take something from an article and it disappeared. It’s all fake down there.”

So went the Type 10 RC tank. May had just started to delve into the fact that it had a camera on it, and that the ‘airsoft turret’ might be modified to pack a ‘real sting’ at over ‘300 feet per second.’ Ember was glad it was gone.

“…none of this is real.” July said, not sounding like he believed her. May had evidently not internalized the moral of—well, anything, but specifically of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Her habit of constantly lying made it difficult to believe even the most sensible things from her mouth.

“Yeah but, among fake things, there are things which are even more fake. Waste your time if you want.” May said.

“But,” July said, “we drank the beer. You’re tellin’ me it’s gone?”

May nodded. July folded his arms and furrowed his brow, completely perplexed.

“Say,” Ember said, as she watched 3N over December’s shoulder, “Our team is completely white. On the news the other teams have at least one or two minorities on them.”

July gestured to May with both of his hands. Ember shrugged at him.

“I’m not white!” May said, “I’m part Cherokee.”

“Oh, how much?” Ember said hopefully.

“Quarter.”

“I don’t think it’s enough. What else you got?”

“Quarter Scotch-Irish, Half Japanese. I'm from Texas.” May said proudly. What a family reunion. May wasn’t exactly a good old boy like July, but she twanged out a word here and there. Ember bit her thumb.

“I knew you were Japanese.” she said. May narrowed her eyes.

“Because of the surprise attack?”

“I was going to say it was because you don’t give up. Now that you mention it, though…”

The next news story was especially bracing: the Blue Team had taken Dox with no losses. There were shots of them fighting their guardian, a cyclops, in a crisp operation wherein all four were present from the start. They all had a decent amount of resources and were guided by a coherent plan. March was their youngest, a strikingly handsome blonde in his early 30s. He had a wide smile which was so obviously phony it annoyed her. A black Cellbow with gaudy purple limbs was his preferred weapon, and the news showed a clip of him loosing it while running, a feat which his lean and wiry physique seemed designed for.

Their Autumn was November, a serious-faced Hispanic brunette with a eye for the attack. A cut of her razoring her way through unarmored Superusers with a long white rapier without ever going on the defense was somewhat entertaining. Later the anchor identified the orange-edged sword, whose white core called to mind a Dreamsicle, as an espada ropera, or Spanish dueling sword. January’s forte was her Style Cell, a large device which employed a stylus, and she mostly won her battles without the use of a sword. The most surprising of all was August, a well-built black man who Ember had mistaken for January’s bodyguard in the Rainforest Ring. He must’ve been what December was talking about when he said other teams had equivalents. August moved with professional purpose, and like December wielded a zweihander with the Cell integrated into it. Ember gasped when he split a man in two along his longitudinal axis. Like the Yellow Team, she got the sense that the Blue Team was a weak alliance of pairs.

While she thought their guardian was fairly tame compared to the terror of Ui, it was possible that the initial day was not intended to be something really difficult. The Yellow Team was its own worst enemy on that point. The Blue Team was wholly composed of proper adults who were in their 30s to 40s and their capacity for sinkholes of drama and poor decision-making was correspondingly lower.

Meanwhile in Channel Dark the 20somethings on the Red Team were having some difficulty overcoming their bizarre dungeon, which appeared to borrow heavily from abusive Asian game shows. At one point in order to progress they were given an hour of practice to suitably impress the local Users with an idol group-style dance. April, the exotic one, took center, and the hourglass blonde June was center left. Since it worked best with two boys and three girls—of which the girls did the heavy lifting—a full-sized HAZE had to take center right. Though April was flawless and energetic right out of the gate they wound up failing the first attempt. After another round of practice and some self-reflection regarding the price of their dignity they more or less nailed it to wild approval, even in spite of the fact that April had to guide HAZE into position by the shoulders. That had happened in the first performance as well, and in the same part; one would think they’d have fixed it. Ember found herself rooting for them even though they were her competition. They’d drawn a weird lot.

When all the ramen had been eaten, all the teeth had been brushed, all the bunk assignments had been flipped upon, and all the Cells were in their charging cradles, September was still awake in her bed staring up at a popcorn ceiling close enough to touch. It was not because of May that she was still up; the girl slept the opposite way in which she lived, which is to say like an angel, curled up in a fetal position with a peaceful expression on her face. The bed rocked with Ember’s careful descent down the ladder built into the frame, but it fortunately didn’t wake her volatile bunkmate. Agent ZUNE, a pet rat, padded around May’s desk and squeaked at Ember curiously as she got dressed in the only clothing she brought, which felt dirty even though she knew it to be clean.

She removed her Eos from its cradle on the desk and went to the darkened living room. After filling up a glass of ice water she sat on the uncomfortable futon, placing the precious Mandate of Glass on the coffee table for a coaster. Judging by the state of the furniture, it was the first time anyone in the apartment had employed that technology. The ostracon in her pocket jabbed her in the side as she sat, so she took it out and set it beside the Mandate.

“SOFI, are you up?” she said quietly. SOFI emerged, again in her moon print pajamas. She wasn’t actually in sleep mode this time, though, so it was only out of respect for the hour.

“It’s almost 0 beats, September. Isn’t this the time of night when good girls are in bed?”

Ember looked over towards where May was sleeping.

“…no?”

“Just restless, then?” SOFI said.

“Yes.” Ember said. She picked up a three ring binder from the coffee table and flipped it open. To her surprise it was a Tow log, which was filling up with new data even at that late hour. The place never slept.

“SOFI, do you have access to this? What did December and May talk about when they spoke in the adjacent room.”

“Aren’t we a nosy sort. Good thing I am too! Now, what was it. Oh! Um. There’s no record of anything being said.” SOFI said. Ember covered her mouth and blushed. Nothing was said? Then. SOFI continued: “He could have come back and deleted it after the fact using his new rights as ruler, or used a concealing Gesture before he spoke.”

“Typical.” Ember said, then sifted through the events of the day in her head. There was one outstanding issue she wanted to address. “What’s my ringmotif? If it’s what I think it is, I’m changing it.”

“No, no.” SOFI hastened to say, “I couldn’t get the rights to Green Day. It’s Earth, Wind, and Fire’s ‘September’! You can change it if you like.”

“Oh, I like that one.”

“Ember, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” SOFI said.

“Hm?”

“To put it simply… we’re in a popularity contest. It’s within your grasp. Your real power is certainly much stronger than an arrow. Who are you, anyway, who has the luxury to refuse her weapon, when everyone else fights with their whole strength? Some would call that arrogant.”

“Weasel words! Who?” Ember said, recalling her conversation with creditonion. Even though she apparently ruled Wikitown now with the power of her Mandate coaster, she was glad to be out of there.

“Er, to put a fine point on it, you’ve been called some variation of arrogant 63 times by 55 different individuals. See for yourself.” SOFI said, and blitzed her Eos through quick images of all of the citations in the space of a centibeat.

“SOFI, I know what you’re saying, but a story of redemption isn’t the same as the real thing.”

“Oh, they’re different? If you say.” SOFI said.

“Could you pull up a search with my tags on Natter.”

“Are you sure,” SOFI said, and leaned with a scrunch of her nose, “that’s wise?”

Ember nodded and SOFI pulled up a feed from Natter. She started to scroll through them. Since her confession she had become an abstraction onto which people projected their beliefs about what was and wasn’t the right way to live, or their views about bullying, or suicide, or justice and the lack thereof. Others took the opportunity to opine on the unjust stigma of having been the victim of abuse. There was also a burial mound of personal attacks, many of which she deserved, some of which she didn’t, none of which changed anything.

Surprisingly, she still had plenty of supporters if one looked for them. Her popularity was currently at 4, while May had climbed to 5. Loads of Users were pairing them up as some kind of jerk duet (”The Yellow Peril”), often with some undertones. July’s popularity had fallen, which really wasn’t his fault when one considered that their guardian attacked his weakness specifically. December’s popularity was holding steady. No one was anywhere near 60 percent, not even as a team. Just as the clock on her Eos rolled over to 0 beats for a new day, an odd message caught her eye.

‘#September will never end.’

She favorited it and clicked the power button, throwing the room into darkness.