Day 1:
I must admit that an athletic display holds no inherent interest to me. As a pastime, I’m far more drawn to the arts. However, as a fashion designer, I must certainly concern myself with the undeniable impact of organized sporting upon consumer media. More than the obvious – this year’s trend of MayaXtreme influenced outerwear – I am fascinated by the way in which the playing field becomes a substitute for the battlefield. A myriad of human political dramas is acted out through the surrogacy of local teams.
So how intriguing is Chand’s idea of holding an Ouroboros Games where the teams are determined by clade affiliation? And to invite Tara…of course, the point is to entice her with a display of sublimated – and not-so-sublimated – masculine sexuality. But I’m certain that Chand has other angles as well. Athletic competition features a peculiar tension between rivalry and bonding, a phenomenon which seems especially accentuated in the male.
Evan, as little interested in participation as I am, accompanies me to the newly-constructed race course, situated just outside of New Merenis. The main event of the first day is a motor derby, apparently inspired by the discovery of a car in the garage attached to Nash’s gas station. Luckily, the gas station turned out to be in the middle of a desert, as it would’ve been difficult to move the car through Nash’s anteroom in the Swan Boat.
« There had to be a way, » says Evan. « What good is a car that can’t be driven? »
« That particular model was apparently notorious for having a large convertible bed in the back seat. »
« Oh, » says Evan. « Ohhhh. »
Because Nash is in our clade, we owe him a bit of moral support. He is standing near his pit crew, Benbow, Solomon and Cüinn. The latter pair were surely chosen for emotional ties rather than practical ones, and neither really seems the least interested in the race to come. I can only be glad that their team spirit allows Evan and myself to escape from the grease, the dust, the burnt-oil smell of the pit.
But there is perhaps something I can do. Nash’s kit is appalling. « Let me design something more stylish. »
Nash shrugs. « My clothes suit me. I’m not fussy. »
« But if you’re going to go retro-cowpoke, why not High Tennessee Aristocracy? »
« Rhinestones? Dang it, Quennel, you’da had my hair braided by now if it wasn’t shorter than a Chihuahua’s buzz-cut. »
« I think the Elvis look is a bit heavy for Nash, » Evan muses.
Problematic. « You don’t have the gravitas to pull off Johnny Cash. » Although a Texas oilman look might suit Ross – I’ll have to suggest that later.
« My jeans are comfortable, clothes a body can work in. »
Comfort is an intersection between fit and fabric, where fit refers not just to the flesh, but to the soul. Not glamorous then, but quality, real quality. « How about these? » I produce a pair of boots, sumptuous leather, ochre brown, embossed with a subtle pattern of leaves.
« These are mighty fine, » says Nash appreciatively.
Our eyes meet and I feel something: synchronization of spark, flow of energy from his branch to mine, a strengthening of the connection between us.
We sit in the upper galley behind Ethan, as close to Tara as possible. Because Evan has a Gold Card, I’m drawn into her circle. I feel sorry for the new branches, pushed so far away. As seems to be her habit of late, she’s with Davy and X’khaim. Two serious lovers at once seems to be her limit.
Ethan and Barnabas are having a conversation in a language largely unintelligible to me. « 1958 Cadillac supersize convertible coupe vs. 1948 Nash Ambassador convertible? » says Ethan. « Those were luxury cars, not hot rods. It’s no contest – my money is on Stephen and his hoverbike. »
« Um, don’t tell Suibhne, but Nash said that he souped his up with an engine from a 1951 Nash Healy Roadster, » says Barnabas.
« The Lemans engine with the twin carbs and three-speed overdrive transmission? Sweet. »
But before the big derby is a warm-up event – a torch race. Only three clades are fielding a team: Club Rendezvous and Stud Buffet, the largest clades, are a given, but surprisingly the third entry is the newly-formed Ophion Irregulars. « Anyone want to bet? » asks X’khaim. « I’m going with Club Rendezvous – not just out of loyalty but because we’ve got Pallav, a professional athlete. Dig and Jamey are lanky, built for running, and Sloane is rugged and fit. »
Tara laughs, shaking her head. « Clearly Stud Buffet. Wynne, Yves and Briscoe look like a real team. »
« But they filled out the team with Daniel. He’s got the build for it, but can you imagine him competing? »
« I wouldn’t count Daniel out of anything, » murmurs Evan.
The Ophion Irregulars look…irregular. Haight, Templeton, Thorne…what a mishmash! The only one who looks prepared for the event is Jesse. We thought he was crazy when he said it was the recreation coordinator’s job to be in every clade, but it also means that he’s eligible to be on any team. The archons ruled that those in multiple organizations could be recruited on an event by event basis, so they didn’t have to choose sides.
They’re off! Dig, Yves and Jesse are the starters. Jesse grabs a quick lead, but Yves is close behind. At the switch, however, Yves just squeaks past Jesse – apparently, Jesse is a sprinter. Yves passes the torch to Wynne, Jesse tags off to Haight, and Jamey runs after Dig. Jamey is graceful and starts to make up a bit of lost time. Wynne, on the other hand, isn’t at all good at running. Then, from out of nowhere, a penguin chick hops onto the field. Jamey skips quickly to avoid it, clanging his torch into Haight’s, making them both stumble and fall out of pace. Dumb luck, but Wynne is in the lead when he hands off to Briscoe.
Templeton proves to be a surprisingly good runner. Sloane doesn’t; his body is strong, not fast. But neither is a match for Briscoe, who is swift and effective, passing both of them. It’s strange that his team didn’t save him for the anchor, especially since the last man to run for Rendezvous will be Pallav, the professional.
It’s still a close race when the torches are passed, Daniel taking the lead over from Briscoe. Templeton tags Thorne, who slows, fumbling with the torch…and then changes into a centaur. The bastard.
The crowd roars, screaming derisively or laughing, but there was nothing in the rules against metamorphosis. Thorne passes Pallav, who doesn’t give up without a fight. It’s incredible how well that boy does against a horse, actually. Then Thorne approaches Daniel, and Daniel gives him this look…Thorne’s tail droops and he kind of stops trying. Pallav passes him, looks at Daniel, and…stops trying. No one can bear to make Daniel lose.
« That was an evil strategy, » says Tara.
« I wish I’d thought of it, » mutters Lorcan.
There’s still another event before the motor derby – Greek wrestling. I have considerably more interest in this one, given its impact on the history of classic art and the emphasis on the beauty of the male form. Unsurprisingly, it proves to be a popular draw. The competitors are Balin, Mickey, Oliver, Axel, Ross, Alexander, Cillian and Ari. Half of them seem more interested in applying the olive oil than the actual contest. Mickey easily defeats Axel in the first round, but Axel’s idea of victory is to get Mickey excited, and he succeeds. The contest between Ross and Alexander is more serious: Ross is stronger, but Alex is a better fighter. Oliver and Ari seem to be an almost ridiculous pairing, but Oliver is faster and harder to grasp and surprisingly good at the sport. Sooner or later, the inevitable happens, and Ari’s superior size wins out. On the other hand, even though Balin is bigger than Cillian, Cillian is a much more hardened warrior.
The second round pits Mickey against Alexander, Cillian against Ari. It’s easy to predict: Alexander is talented and energetic, but really no match for Mickey’s incredible training. Ari and Cillian are more closely matched; we tend to forget that Ari had experience in real combat when he fought with the K’ntasari against the Terran invaders on Eden. When it comes to the real thing, I wouldn’t want to push Ari, but in a game, he has no real will to win. Cillian, on the other hand, can’t stand losing. The end game will be Mickey against Cillian.
« This oughta be interesting, » Cillian says, grinning.
Wrestling isn’t Mickey’s sport – he’s a fast, hard-hitting martial artist, and Cillian has a weight advantage. But Greek wrestling isn’t so much about pinning: you lose points if your back touches the ground. Mickey knows how to use leverage. He rushes Cillian, throwing him outside the ring before he can react: 1 point for Mickey. Then Cillian grabs him and won’t let go, pressing him to the ground, a point for Cillian. Cillian grabs Mickey again, but he squirms out (the copious quantity of oil is helpful) and manages to throw his opponent. Cillian grunts, growls, and throws Mickey over his shoulder. Mickey is carried out of the ring; the match is 2-2 and is played for three points.
« Whoa, this is sexy, » mutters Davy.
« You’re telling me, » says Tara. « How many more events before the orgy? »
« Historically, women were forbidden to watch, » X’khaim remarks. « I guess the ancients thought it would corrupt their wives. »
« Or wanted less competition seducing the wrestlers, » says Tara. « Perhaps I should have the two of them do a private rematch. »
Mickey and Cillian grab each other and hold fast. It becomes a pushing contest. Mickey can’t get the leverage to throw Cillian but can’t seem to get away from him either. At this rate, Mickey is going to lose. Cillian has more raw strength, and all he needs to do is push Mickey down.
But this is Greek wrestling, with its remarkably lax rules. Anything goes except eye gouging and grabbing the genitals. Mickey slips his foot behind Cillian’s ankle and tips him off balance, sending him backwards. But Cillian is fast – he manages to twist, catching himself with his arm so that his hip doesn’t touch the ground. He rolls onto his stomach, which doesn’t count as a point. Nevertheless, it’s normally a good position for the top wrestler to be in. Get the man on the bottom into a stranglehold and choke him until he gives up.
Gives up? This is Cillian. The bastard hooks Mickey’s fingers and starts to bend! Finger dislocation is allowed at the discretion of the referee…and Ailann is the referee.
« Cillian is so not nice, » says Tara, admiringly.
Mickey increases the pressure on Cillian’s throat. Then Cillian pushes up from the ground – on one arm – and uses the other to flip Mickey onto his back.
« Dammit! I’m going to whip your branches in kickboxing! » Mickey yells.
Finally, the big event is here. Tannon’s Caddy is cherry red and Nash’s Nash is Lakeland blue (They seriously came in that color; if only I had Lens’ foresight, I would’ve included it in the decorator’s guild official palate.) Stephen straddles a lime green hoverbike. Then Vassali enters on his steed.
« This is a motor derby, » says Ailann.
« I have horsepower, » Vassali replies.
Vassali is out of synchronization again, Jamey telesends. For now, just let him race representing Club Rendezvous.
Ailann glances over at Cillian, who shrugs. Then he nods. Bastien stands on the tarmac, lowering the flag.
« First Thorne, now this, » says Tara, « There should’ve been an equestrian event. »
And then it breaks into two contests: two old souped-up luxury vehicles in the rear, massively outstripped by a hoverbike and an eight-legged horse. But a horse, however fast, was not designed for running on asphalt. A hoverbike was designed for racing anywhere.
Except up the sides of walls. Vassali decides to take the horse off the track and onto the side of the course so that he’s running perpendicular to the rest of the field. « That can’t be legal, » Davy protests.
« He’s running the same distance. More actually, since Stephen is taking the inside track, » says Tara.
Stephen’s bike is at its max, and his reflexes are flawless. Vassali, on the other hand is relying on an animal; the question is whether the horse has a hidden reserve of speed, or if it will tire and fall behind. But neither seems to happen. Vassali is just keeping pace with Stephen. In the distance, Nash and Tannon are nose to nose.
They hit the home stretch, bearing down with intense speed, but Stephen is slightly ahead since his path is shorter. He finishes barely in front of Vassali. He jumps off his bike, yelling, « What was that about? »
Vassali looks into the distance, down the course towards the approaching autos. He points, « That, » he says. « I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. »
Stephen’s face falls first into confusion, then understanding. His bike so outmatched the ancient automobiles that it would’ve been embarrassing to win. In his own strange way, Vassali made Stephen’s victory heroic.
Day 2:
« Couldn’t we have watched these events on holo or something? » asks Poole. « It’s freezing! »
Poole simply isn’t dressed for the weather. I’ve wrapped Evan in a sensuous cape of err-myne; myself, I’ve opted for a stylishly trendy combo of plasmahosen topped with a thermal plush parka. Also, the point of winter sports is warming up afterward.
A hush falls over the spectators on the observation platform at the foot of the mountain as Chand announces the beginning of the slalom. Straight out of the gate, Marius is in front. As he’s a professional ski instructor, was there ever any doubt?
« It’s not exactly fair, » says Wynne. « No poker, no billiards, no spinette, no darts, none of the games Stud Buffet is really good at. But Mile High gets handed a slalom race that Marius is sure to win. »
« I don’t actually think you’re the guy to be complaining about unfair odds, » says Ace.
It’s not unfair – as a matter of fact, one might note that it’s too fair. Everyone has collected the same amount of points. Literally every team is in first place. Maybe I and I has somehow missed the point of holding a competition?
The scoreboard flashes the current statistics:
| Team | Events Won | Total Points |
|---|---|---|
| Aquatic Adventure Clade | Kickboxing (Mickey); Freestyle Swimming (Hollis) | 2 |
| Club Rendezvous | Marathon (Pallav); Guitar Legend (BJ) | 2 |
| Club V/E | Cat’s Cradle; Curfling | 2 |
| Formal Dining Clade | MayaXtreme; Rib Burn Off (Selby) | 2 |
| Genius Arborium Sidereum | Scavenger Hunt; Ghost Wrangling (Stavros) | 2 |
| Lunatic Fringe | Penguin Toss (Suibhne); Scissors-Paper-Stone (Suibhne) | 2 |
| Mile High Club | Slalom (Marius); Towel-drying (Thomas) | 2 |
| Ophion Irregulars | Speed Sudoku (Thorne); Chess-Boxing (Templeton) | 2 |
| Pastoral Scene | Greek Wrestling (Cillian); Fencing (Bastien) | 2 |
| Strip Club | Synchronized Swimming; Gymnastics (Fairchild) | 2 |
| Stud Buffet | Torch Relay; Motor Derby (Stephen) | 2 |
It’s going to be a few minutes before the victory announcement is made. Everyone crowds around the concession, chattering as they grab a cocoa or a spiced cider.
« Thought that Evan really had a chance… »
« Nah! His technique is amazing, but Guitar Legend is about attitude. No way would he ever beat BJ. »
« Now the curfling, that was close. The only reason Club V/E won is because they had Jesse. Jesse is a one-man curfling Armageddon. »
« That Penguin Toss thing was a crock. Suibhne was the only one who entered. »
« I still think it’s tasteless. I know all the penguins signed wavers and were equipped with adequate protective gear, but isn’t it a little, well…speciest? Like we’re disrespecting them. »
« Yeah, Suibhne had that one handed to him. But you can’t argue that he’s the absolute master of scissors-paper-stone. No one can guess what he’s going to do next. »
« Suibhne used penguins to help in the scavenger hunt, too. »
« Stavros fixed him. The gourd network was even more efficient. »
« Synchronized swimming was an upset. I was sure that Aquatic Adventure would win all the water sports, but Fairchild is just as graceful in water as on land. »
« Did you see that mothman figure Quennel pulled out of Dermot’s Jacob’s ladder? To go from one of the simplest string forms to one that complicated…. »
« I really don’t get why cat’s cradle was included and not darts. »
« But you can’t argue about that chess-boxing. That was awesome the way Templeton went right from a checkmate to a knockout. »
« No one will ever beat Formal Dining Clade at MayaXtreme while they’ve got Hyde. But seriously, I think we should have more cooking contests just so we can eat Selby’s creations. »
Finally, Ailann appears at the top of the grandstand. « By Tara’s decree, we shall return to New Merenis for a tiebreaker of her choice. »
In retrospect, it should’ve been expected. I and I would never create a situation elevating one of us above another. That is completely Tara’s purview.
We gather at the amphitheater, where Tara reveals the rules to this final competition. « Each club will need to pick an athlete to compete in the final race. It’s a combination of three of my favorite sports: parkour, archery and cheese rolling. »
There’s a moment of disbelieving silence. Then Davy puts voice to what so many are feeling at this moment: « You’re shitting us. »
« You have to run through New Merenis, hitting ten of the targets, » she explains, undaunted. « The final stretch is down Mericliff Hill, where you’ll be in pursuit of a huge roll of Gloucestershire. Shoot it through the center, cross the finish and you win. »
« No, really, » says Davy.
« Why are you doing this? » asks Ethan.
« Because I can, » says Tara. « Also, get me another order of fries – this nacreous vinegar is awesome. »
My clade quickly huddles. It’s not a difficult choice. The only one with any chance at all is Benbow.
The other competitors are Fairchild (the most agile member of the Strip Club), Valentin (an obvious choice for Aquatic Adventure), Lorcan (mystifying – with all those members, that’s the best Rendezvous could do?), Selby (now I’m really lost), Tannon (Lunatic Fringe is desperate, too), Marius, Faulkner, Callum (okay, but why not Cillian?), and Chase (I’d be shocked if he even leaves the starting line.)
Here’s what Tara didn’t tell us. The archery targets aren’t fixed. They pop out at random locations, and they’re moving. And one other thing – suddenly, there’s a major construction project in New Merenis, with heavy equipment everywhere and detours around blocked off streets.
« But the pleroma is a mental construct, » says Balin. « Why do the streets need repair? »
« You don’t get it, » says Ace. « The construction appeared specifically to create obstacles for parkour. »
Faulkner had never even heard of the sport, but he was literally born with wings, and somehow the ability to run up the stationary arm of a crane and vault off the machine over an extended chasm leading into the sewage system while skeet-shooting a clay pigeon fired at his head seems to come to him completely naturally.
Faulkner also had the sense to choose a small and primitive bow. Valentine is struggling with a sophisticated compound bow which doesn’t give him the flexibility to maneuver quickly at close range. He has much greater accuracy from a distance, but few of the targets are distant.
Marius has the wrong strategy, approaching the race like a slalom, trying to avoid the obstacles with as much speed as possible. It’s Lorcan and Callum who get the trick of it – go through, not around. Faulkner chooses to go over. He bolts up a fire escape and begins leaping from roof to roof.
Callum is doing all right. He’s good with the bow at short range, and he has a knack of squeezing between spaces – fences, hovercar windows, children’s playground equipment. And Chase is catching up. He stood around watching everyone else for a few minutes before he took the longbow. Now Benbow and Fairchild are further ahead in the race, but Chase has hit more of the targets. Benbow’s experience in climbing the rigging is an advantage, but the bow is just not his weapon of choice.
Then Selby comes whizzing past on a skateboard.
« Foul! » cries Ari.
« The trick to parkour is to adapt to your environment, » says Tara. « If he found a skateboard, he can use it. »
« What if Tannon decides to use his car? » asks Balin.
« That would be stupid, » says Ace. « With all that construction, it’s faster on foot. »
« It would be fastest on horseback, » says Vassali. « It would also leave the hands free for archery. »
The scoreboard records that Faulkner has completed the tenth shot. It also shows Lorcan as scoring ten, but I can’t see him in any of the holoprojections. Where the hell is he? Callum and Chase are right on their heels with nine scores, but Chase just can’t get motivated to run. Faulkner is in the lead, but the problem is that he’s still about fifteen stories above the surface of the road. It turns out to not be a problem at all: he performs a series of breathtaking leaps back and forth between fire escapes to descend to ground level on the final incline.
There’s a noise like a gunshot, and the cheese comes flying out of the gate and down the hill.
It’s harder than one might think, firing at a rolling object with a velocity approaching 100 km/hr. Faulkner chases it, aiming with the bow, when suddenly the cheese explodes in front of him. It’s Lorcan, who has popped like a prairie-squid out of the sewer tunnel at the bottom of the hill. Now Faulkner has to wait for a second cheese to be released while Lorcan struggles to pull himself out onto the street. The Gloucester wheel explodes onto the scene just as Lorcan scrambles to his knees. It’s hurtling right at him! A cheese wheel at that kind of speed is a dangerous thing.
Faulkner hits it with amazing precision, deflecting it from its deadly course as Lorcan rolls to his feet. The two of them dash to the finish as cheese number three is out of the gate, Callum in hot pursuit.
« Now this is what I call a sport, » says Tara.
« It lacks the grace of curfling, » Tommy grumbles.
« It’s close to a tie, » says Ailann, « although upon close inspection, Faulkner is just a shade over the line due to his superior reach. »
« So Lorcan loses because he’s short? » Tara protests.
« Athletic contests are like that, » says Tommy. « That’s why basketball players get gene mods. »
« I say it’s a tie, » Tara insists. « The Ophion Irregulars and Club Rendezvous will share the title. » By agreement with Tommy, the winning teams get five fucktokens. That could significantly improve the social status of the Irregulars. But if I and I wanted to do that, why not just let them win?
Driscoll touches me on the shoulder. « We have got to talk Chand into an Arts Festival. »