Chapter 1: The Orientation

Coins and Codes

Cores and Candles

Credits, Credits, Kills

 

Rumor had spread that this season’s cast of the Space Capsule Races were being gathered here for an orientation, so the satellite city was filled with press and fans. The producers hadn’t published the player roster yet, thankfully—only security had the list—which made it relatively easy for me to navigate my way from my hotel room, through the casino, and into the event center where my agenda told me to be. I had this funny feeling passing the paparazzi. None of them knew I’d been selected—not yet—but I could feel their eyes on me, curious, looking for any sign, any clue I could be one of the one hundred.

When security let me through the player checkpoint, cameras started flashing in my peripherals followed by cat calls and all manner of attempts to get my attention. I thought about pulling my pants down, give them a juicy glimpse of my cheeks, but I ended up just waving instead. Boring, I know. I’d find a way to make up for it later on the show.

I picked up my badge at the check-in counter and followed a group of people, who could only be other members of the one hundred, towards the auditorium entrance. Just before I passed through a set of open doors, I caught a glimpse of Earth through a window. The Horizons Satellite City was passing over the golden coast at the moment, and I thought, hey, I can see my house from here. That green/blue ball was truly beautiful, at least from orbit. Down on the surface, it was a shit heap. I gave my hometown a one finger salute before turning and walking into the auditorium. I was thrilled to have a reason to get out of L.A., if only for the next year or so.

The auditorium was small and intimate with rows that surrounded a stage in a semicircle. I guessed there were about 150 seats. People were trickling in from multiple entrances, making their way down to the front. All of them were young adults, like me. Anywhere from eighteen to mid-twenties. That was typical of the show’s cast, this season proving no different. I took an aisle seat near the back next to a cute ginger sitting three chairs in.

“Hey,” I said, as I sat.

The girl looked up from her tablet and smiled. She had a button nose, freckles, and glasses. A great combination. “Oh, hello.”

“Jack Cobb,” I said, offering my hand. “Number thirty-three.”

“Kelly Kendall. Uh … ” She looked at her badge. “Sixty-six, looks like.” We shook hands, exchanged smiles.

“Sixty-six. That’s double my number. That mean you're twice as talented? Or am I just a lot closer than you are to being number 1?”

In the context of the show that joke made perfect sense in my head. Apparently it came out flat, though, because Kelly looked confused. At least at first. Then she offered me a tight, one syllable laugh—humoring me—and went back to her screen.

“We’ll see, I guess,” she said, seemingly very intent on writing something at lightning speed.

“Yeah, that was stupid,” I said, cringing. My conversation skills were a bit rusty, I’ll admit. That’s what happens when you dedicate your life to a start-up and forget there’s other people in the world. I looked around, aimlessly, then settled on inspecting my badge. At the top was my name. Under that, Los Angeles, CA. The words aspiring entrepreneur came next then player 33.

Did they really have to put the word “aspiring” in there?

“What are you working on?” I said, motioning towards her tablet.

Kelly shot me a glance and shrugged. “Oh, this? Nothing. Just … I started this blog when I got selected, been writing about the show, all the behind the scenes stuff. Particularly the medical and psychological evaluations, you know? Just keeping my followers updated and whatnot.”

“Oh. Didn’t know we could talk about the show yet.”

“The blog’s technically anonymous.”

“Ah, I see. Well, that probably explains all the razzi out there. I knew there would be press but not that much.”

She let out a nervous laugh then cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, I have no idea.”

“What’s the blog called?”

“Kelly’s Korner.”

“Huh,” I said. “Sounds like a strip club,” is what I wanted to say. What came out was, “Cool beans. Hey, wasn’t that security down at the Huston terminal a bitch to get through? I was in a chair for seven hours. Were you on that flight?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it totally was,” she said. “I was actually just writing about that very thing.”

“I know right? This one agent forced me to strip. Said she had to perform a cavity search before she’d let me on the ship.”

Kelly turned her full attention to me and gawked, tablet completely forgotten. “Are you shitting me right now?”

I smiled, then cringed. “Yeah, no. Just kidding. But I did get an extremely aggressive pat down. That beefy woman with the baton, you saw her? She was getting pretty handsy.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow, gave me an, “oh,” and a scowl before turning back to her screen. Obviously disappointed.

This conversation was not going nearly as well as I’d hoped. If flirting was a real life stat, I'd probably be in the negative right now.

“You should tell your followers it really happened though,” I said. “Bet they’d eat it up.”

Kelly clicked return with her pinky and snorted a laugh. She looked at me, about to respond when the doors behind us shut and the lights went dim.

“Oh, here we go,” said Kelly. “I hear Kubo Smith himself is doing this part of the orientation.”

Kubo Smith himself, I thought. That’s interesting. He’d been the host of the Space Capsule Races for as long as anyone could remember. Besides Jesus and the late, three-hundred year old Elon Musk, he was the most famous person in the world.

An electric guitar solo blared. A heavy beat started pump, pump, pumping. Lights flickered all over the stage. People hooted and hollered. Kelly and I exchanged smiles as she tucked away her tablet into a travel pack. And then the curtains opened.

Kubo Smith. There he was, in the flesh. The man, the legend, the mustache. Seven foot tall, skin as black as 80% dark cocoa, and teeth that shined under that stash on their own accord.

He swaggered out onto the stage, confident in his stride, leaning against his silver cane that perfectly matched his suit and silver cropped hair. People cheered, clapped. Gave the guy a hero’s welcome. Kubo did a twirl around his cane and pointed aimlessly at the audience members until the music stopped. When he spoke, his deep, growly voice boomed, giving the acoustics in the room a run for their money. Even without a mic.

“Welcome, players, to the 88th annual Space Capsule Race,” said the seasoned celebrity. “My name, if you don’t already know, is Kubo Smith, and I’ll be running your initial orientation to the show. We’re gonna talk about your capsules. We’re gonna talk about the new virtual reality landscape you’ll be playing in. And we’ll be talking about all the new and interesting aspects of gameplay that your audience will just slurp up this season as you travel through the vastness of space. But before all that, I’d just like to be the first to say, congratulations for being selected!”

Oh, how the audience cheered for that.

“My, my. Yes, yes. This is a vibrant crowd, I can taste the energy. Taste it! That’s what I love. Each one of you showed the show runners something special, something unique in your interviews. And we’re excited to showcase that special something to a thirsty world. Can I get a whoop whoop?”

The audience did, indeed, give the man whoop whoop, and then some.

“Wonderful. Wonderful, yes, yes, now settle down. Settle down. A little too much energy in that section over there, I think.” This comment elicited some laughs and a few excited exclamations from said section.

“Now,” continued Kubo, “while I’m confident each one of you are very familiar with the show. I can tell you’re all fans, and you all—especially you, down there with the green mohawk. Yes, you. Love the t-shirt.”

Mohawk boy stood up, let out a number of long, “yeah, yeah, yeahs,” and puffed out his chest showing everyone what was on it: Kubo’s likeness riding a silver, phallic-shaped rocket in a very provocative manner.

“Okay, okay, great, great. Now sit down and shut up, kid, this is my part of the orientation. You’ll get your chance to shine.” The audience laughed, and Mohawk went a little red-faced before he sat. “Like I was saying, I know you’re all familiar with the show. But I’m going to be speaking to you as if you know nothing. Okay? Got to cover all the basics from the bottom on up. Or at least I’ll try to. I don't know, we'll see how it goes. And after my bit, Sandy Cain, one of our executive producers back there will be taking over. Sound good?”

Noises of acknowledgement filled the room.

“Good. Good. Now. Let’s get started.”

An image of Earth and Mars appeared on a massive screen behind Kubo. A cluster of dots rocketed off of Earth and began to fly towards Mars leaving a long, white line in their wake.

“The Space Capsule Race is first and foremost … you guessed it, a race," said Kubo. "Each of you will live inside a tiny, rocket propelled craft for the duration, however long it takes. You’ll be traveling to Mars, swinging around, and heading back to Earth. Could take a month, could take a year. That all depends on you. Don’t worry, you’ve got enough food and water in there to last you a good, long while. As you know, you will not be piloting these crafts. An A.I. will be doing that. The only control you’ll have over your little ship is its acceleration and deceleration. And those two things will be determined by how successful you are inside the collective, virtual playground you’ll be sharing with each other for the duration.”

More hoots and hollers.

“Every twenty-four hour cycle, you’ll be allowed to log in for four hours through your personal, state-of-art, 5Senz VR console, which will completely immerse your mind in another world. Make sure you use the bathroom before logging in every cycle, because once you’re in for that round, you physically won’t be able to log out. And there’s nothing worse than having to piss in a VR lock out, let me tell you.”

That was interesting. They didn’t have VR lock outs in previous seasons. Of course, there had been tons of complaints from fans about players getting into sticky situations and simply ripping their VR gear off to escape the trouble. Looks like they remedied that for this season.

“The only way you get out of your four hours early is by dying. Which, let’s be honest, will be happening a lot for some of you.” He eyed the kid with the green mohawk. “Good thing it’s only virtual, am I right? Oh, also, on that same note, you won't be allowed to stay logged in for more than four hours. Once you hit that four hour mark, you’re done for the cycle. Out. Gone. See you next time. So keep an eye on your countdown. Good timing is a skill every showman should have. Also, once you’re killed, you can’t log back in until the next four hour block. Is that clear?”

“Do we lose our stuff when we log out?” shouted someone on the far side of the auditorium.

“No, only if you die,” said Kubo. “But I’ll get to that. Also, questions are at the end, thank you very much.” He graced us all with his award winning smile and turned back to the screen. “Now for the most important part of this entire game. The prize money.”

A collective buzz washed over the room, the electricity so potent you could almost taste the anticipation.

“Y’all ready for this?” said Kubo.

The buzz got heavier. People were literally vibrating.

“I said … are you ready … for … THIS?”

“Yes, oh gah, give it to me, Kubo! Give it to me hard,” shouted Kelly, after which she covered her mouth and looked at me. Her face, even in the dimmed auditorium lighting, looked a shade redder than it already was.

The screen behind Kubo flashed, and the number ten million popped up followed by the sound of a deep, bass-y boom.

“Ten. Million. Dollars!” shouted Kubo.

The crowd roared, and I laughed. That was a shit ton of money, even now after the recent, record breaking inflation spike. Ten million. Holy shit.

“Yes. Ten million bones. Tax free, I might add. And it all goes to one person here. One of you. The one who wins the race back to Earth and lands their capsule on the famous Houston Bullseye.”

The screen depicted a realistic rendering of a silver egg landing softly on a massive landing pad that had a candle painted in the middle of it. Animated fanfare followed the landing with confetti and fireworks.

“Now, let’s talk about your capsules,” said Kubo, when the excitement died down enough to speak again. “We have a brand new model for you this season. The technical designation for it is the XG-88 Transport Capsule, but we’ve come to affectionately refer to it as … the Egg.”

The screen changed to show a silver egg hovering in the air. Or at least it looked like an egg at first glance. Slowly, as the camera zoomed in, it became obvious that this object was indeed a space faring craft built to house a single person. The “egg” turned into an animated schematic of itself and split in half to show all its innards, sketched out. There was a padded tube for sleeping in zero gravity. A hygiene-tube for body cleaning and clothes maintenance. A very advanced looking virtual reality console and rig, which was also set up inside a tube. And hey, look at that, a personal gym that included an exercise bike and water rowing machine bolted to the ceiling. There was a control panel equipped with keyboards and monitors, and on the far side, where the Egg’s curve was the most bulbous, there was a large window as if the whole craft was capped with a giant contact lens.

Oohs and awes filled the room. This new model was definitely more spacious than what we’d seen in previous seasons of the show.

“Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it? Very nice,” said Kubo. “Better than a state-of-art tiny home, am I right? And you see that exercise equipment? Remember how last season we had trouble motivating the players to use it on off hours? Well, get this,” he chuckled. “In order to ensure you use it, the engineers designed the equipment so that it charges your VR rig. That’s right! If you don’t exercise, you can’t participate in gameplay. And if you don't participate in gameplay, you can't win that big-ass prize!”

Groans all around, and lots of laughter.

“Right after this, you’ll be taken to the hanger where all one-hundred capsules are waiting for you. You’ll be able to tour your new homes before you launch. Okay, enough about the capsules. Let’s get to the meat of this meeting. This season’s virtual world, and the nitty-gritty details of the game. Who’s excited for that?”

You are reading story Jin Ella World at novel35.com

I was, I had to admit. There were always slightly different elements of gameplay every season, each with an interesting theme. Last season, there was an emphasis on collecting gemstones and deciphering hieroglyphics on ancient ruins. That, and the never ending, brutal, torturous onslaught between the players.

The screen behind Kubo blurred white, then a vast green valley tucked between two massive curving canyon walls came into view. A thin river flowed through the canyon. It poured out from numerous caves on a massive, singular mountain at one end of the valley. It was so tall its peaks were lost in clouds. Eventually the river ran through a sandy white beach, spilling into a vast, endless ocean. Along the canyon walls were dozens of natural forming walkways and ledges, leading into more caves. And in the lush, green valley below there were towers—structures designed with ancient, fantasy-esque aesthetics in mind that were surrounded by cities of stone and wood.

The phrase “copyright infringement” was what came to mind when the camera flew through one of the cities, past what looked like a particular tavern/inn. I swore I’d seen that same architecture in a recently released video game. I watched the screen intently as people came into view, walking around doing various things in the towns. That was something new. There’d never been people in the VR sim before. Before, only the players inhabited the VR world during the race. As if reading my thoughts, Kubo pointed that very fact out to everyone.

“I’m sure you’ve all noticed there are people here. Yeah, pretty cool right? This season, we have a dedicated A.I. built into the sim solely responsible for managing non-player characters that you can interact with. I’ve personally tested it out. That A.I. is pretty damn good at making the experience seem very life-like. Let me tell you.”

There was some excited chatter. Then someone shouted, “Can you fuck ‘em?” Because of course someone did.

That got all sorts of reactions from the crowd. Cheers and boos. Kubo just stood there pulling different variations of mock shock, playing off of the audience's eclectic reaction. Eventually, it all died down to a humming, nervous laughter.

Kubo cleared his throat. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” And that was all he had to say about the matter.

Kelly and I looked at each other. “Guess we’ll find out,” she said, then immediately went wide-eyed and tried to back peddle. “No, not that I … I’d never try anything like that. That’s not what I meant,” she said, pulling out her tablet to make a note.

“Uh huh,” I said. “Course not. Me neither.”

We didn’t look at each other for a while after that.

“Anyway, moving on,” said Kubo, kicking back into presentation mode.

The camera angle snapped back to a high level, bird’s-eye-view so we could see everything. The mountain, the canyon walls, all the little cities in the thick wooded valley, and the wide open beach at the end.

“The landscape this season is called Jin Ella World.” An elderly Japanese woman appeared on the left side of the screen. “This is Jin Ella Liaow, the sim’s lead architect. A brilliant woman, if you ask me. She, and her team, took painstaking effort to make sure that this place would be perfect for the show.”

I immediately knew why one of the taverns looked so familiar. Jin Ella’s company, Zow-Wow Software, produced a number of video games every year. Her art was known far and wide. It had a particular style about it that was familiar, but hard to describe. It was almost like a feeling more than an actual visual element or aspect that made her work so unmistakable.

The camera continued to fly around showing strange creatures tussling in the woods with each other. Yes, creatures. That was new too!

We entered a cave on the side of the canyon wall. The tunnel wound through, illuminated by purple, glowing fungi, until it came to a vast hollow cavern. More creatures swam in the pools below us as water dripped from stalactites. We zoomed up a staircase of stone that followed the cavern wall up and up until we reached a ledge. Dangling from the stone ceiling, a small golden object could be seen tangled in an exposed tree root. An animated hand reached out and touched the object. It immediately spun into center screen, revealing what it was: a golden coin. A close up of it showed the Space Capsule Race logo, a candle, engraved in the center of it.

“Woo-eee,” said Kubo. “A lot to unpack in that little demo, am I right? First off: yes, there will be all manner of creatures and monsters in this season. You can fight ‘em, you can ride 'em, you can f…” He pointed to the left side of the audience. “Don’t you dare ask it,” he said, then quickly continued. “They’re just like the NPCs, except they can’t talk. Well, at least I don’t think they can. I don't know too much about them, to be honest.” He turned to the floating coin, then back to the audience. “Ah, now we’re getting to the fun part. Let’s talk about how to accelerate your eggs. Let’s talk about coins, cores, codes, candles, and credits—shit, that’s a lot of C-words.”

That was a lot of C-words, I thought. I turned to Kelly. “What’s next? cookies and cats?”

I actually got a giggle from that. Flirting stat plus two.

“You all should have pamphlets under your chairs,” said Kubo. “Reach under and pull them out. It goes over the details of these five crucial game elements in greater detail, more than what I'll be covering here."

He glanced at his watch, then turned and pointed his cane at the still glowing coin on the screen. “Okay. This here is what we call a sponsored coin. We have exactly one thousand partners sponsoring the show this season, so we have exactly one thousand of these golden pieces scattered around Jin Ella World for you to find. Each coin will have a sponsor’s logo engraved on it, and each will grant you a different ‘magical’ ability for as long as you possess it. Meaning, until you get killed.” He wiggled finger quotations when he said the word ‘magical.’

Kubo paused to take stock of his audience. Everyone seemed intrigued, deep in thought about these coins. What kind of abilities? Did they have anything to do with the sponsors' products or services? We’d seen sponsors advertised creatively like this before on the show. That wasn’t new. What was new was this “magical ability” element.

“Last season,” said Kubo, “the theme was ancient tech and mechanisms. This season, it’s combat magic, treasure, and dungeons. I don’t want to give away more than that.”

I looked down at the pamphlet I’d pulled from under my seat and scanned it until I found the section on Sponsored Coins. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bullet point list below the descriptive paragraph.

It read,

• Coins can be found anywhere on the terrain. Some in dark hidden places, some in plain sight.
• Every coin represents a sponsor.
• Every coin grants the owner a magical boon or ability that somehow correlates with the sponsor's product or service. This boon, or ability, will be combative in nature.
• When you are killed, you will lose this boon, or ability, along with the coin.
• When you are killed, all coins you possess will immediately be absorbed by Jin Ella World and re-spawn in a different, unique location set to idle waiting to be found again.
• Every coin you possess will give your XG-88 Capsule, or Egg, a 0.01% increase in acceleration. When you lose your coin, your Egg will immediately decelerate 0.01% to account for the loss of coin.

There it is, that last bullet point. That’s what I was looking for. All that stuff about coins is great, very interesting gameplay info, but I wanted to know how to accelerate my ship faster than anyone else's.

I perked back up when I heard Kubo say the word, “acceleration.”

“And that’s just one of five ways you can gain acceleration,” said the old game show host. “Careful not to get killed, though. Your egg will decelerate the moment you lose ‘em. Okay, let’s move on. What’s next?”

The screen ran through another camera POV fly over, landing this time on a sprouting leaf. On this leaf, very light, very subtle, was a nine digit code of letters and numbers.

“Ah, yes, the architect’s codes. These, much like the coins, are scattered around randomly throughout the virtual world. You can find these nine digit codes on literally anything. Rocks, leaves, buildings, even tattooed or seared into the flesh of NPCs and creatures. These codes are gifts from Jin Ella herself. While coins grant you magical offensive abilities. These codes grant you magical defensive abilities. Shields, healing potions, hidden rooms, things like that. It will become clear how to activate them once you’re in the sim. Note that some of these are one time use only. Also, like with coins, if you die, all your codes become invalid. Forever. Oh, and for every code you possess, your egg gets a 0.01% acceleration boost for as long as that code is active. Everyone say, ‘Thank you Jin Ella!’”

In unison, the audience shouted thanks to the architect. After which, Kubo just stood there with an amused look on his face. He motioned to a young woman in the front row.

“How we doing? You guys doing okay? Need to take a break?”

Different variations of ‘nah, man, we’re good’ came whirling up at Kubo like a wave.

“You’re not bored yet? All these tedious info dumps aren’t bogging you down?”

Again, another wave of comments burst from the audience. This one of encouragement, and a collective desire to keep info-dumping all this juicy shit on us, man!

Kubo snapped. A young stage-hand ran a bottle of water out to Kubo, then ran backstage. He took it with a nod and cracked it open gingerly. After he poured about half down his gullet, he continued to dump more info on us.

“Well then, let’s talk about cores then, shall we?”

Immediately, the screen behind the host came to life again. This time our point of view was zooming up the mountain side, climbing higher and higher until we popped up over the precipice of a ledge and face to face with a shining red sphere. Its size was hard to tell, since there was nothing but a dark stone wall behind it for reference. Could have been as big as a bowling ball or as tiny as a marble. It hovered in mid-air, glowing from within.

“Now cores are a bit different than coins and codes. Coins represent sponsors. Codes are helpful treats from Jin Ella, but cores …” he let the word drift as he pointed to random people in the audience. “Cores represent you in this game. There are exactly one hundred cores inside Jin Ella World, each with a player’s name on it. And they’re going to be a huge element this season. Here, let me pull out my notes to make sure I don’t miss anything on this one.” He pulled a tattered pamphlet from inside his suit coat pocket, angled it far enough away from his eyes so he could read it, and said, “Ah, yes. Ooh, this is good. Okay, Player Cores. Here it is. Number one, if you possess another player’s core, then that player cannot harm you for as long as you possess it.” He nodded at the audience, then continued. “Two, if you are killed, you lose all cores in your possession. You can possess up to ninety-nine cores at any given time. That would be everyone but you. Okay, three, when you take possession of another player’s core, you also take possession of half their acceleration bonuses, if that player has any. Wow. Ouch! Okay. Four, you cannot touch or move your own core in any way if you happen to find it, but you can access your core’s protection menu to build a defense around it. That sounds useful. And last but not least, number five here says: kills are the currency of cores. For every player you kill, you receive a number of defense points contingent on that player’s current candle ranking.” Kubo looked up. “Or, in other words, the more kills you get, the more you can fortify your defenses around your core. That’s a whole game in and of itself!”

My mind suddenly opened up to a million possibilities involving these cores. What would a defense around a core look like? I’ve played countless tabletop games and VR sims that involved elements like dungeon cores. Would it be something like that? Seems like all that wasting time with friends was going to pay off after all! I thought coins and codes were interesting, but this aspect took the cake so far.

Kelly seemed to share my opinion. I could tell by the shit-eating grin she gave me, nearly foaming at the mouth.

“Alright, alright,” said Kubo. “We’ve covered a lot so far. Are you ready for some more? You sure you don’t want a coffee break? I could do with some coffee. Maybe a foot massage. You want to give me a foot massage, mohawk?”

The crowd at this point was so used to Kubo’s teasings that the, “don’t stop, keep goings,” started up even before he asked if they wanted a break.

“Alright, alright, calm down, you wild animals. Okay, what’s next? Candles, here we go,” said Kubo. “This is where the public gets involved. If you remember from last season, we had a ranking board. It put all the players in order of who had the most kills, who had accomplished the most goals, etcetera, etcetera. This season we’re doing something similar. Instead of the system ranking the players, the audience members will be ranking them. This will be a public opinion, popularity contest. Here, watch this promo ad.” He turned to watch the screen as a candle appeared flickering in the darkness. The candle faded away with a low, melodic hum, replaced by sentence after sentence with the sound of drums for dramatic effect. In order of appearance, the phrases read:

For just ten dollars, you too can participate in this season of The Space Capsule Races.

With the introduction of our new omnipresent view technology, you can explore our virtual world as an invisible tag-a-long alongside your favorite players as they compete for dominance.

Award your top five favorites with Boon Candles, which will help them succeed in the race in a significant way.

Sign up for an account today!

After that, the fine print began scrolling down the screen: Only one account per person. Accounts accessible through iris and fingerprint security encryption. No registration refunds. You must be thirteen years of age to purchase an account. Account access is banned in North Korea.

And so on and so forth.

“I bet you’re all wondering what Boon Candles are good for,” said Kubo.

I’d already skimmed ahead to the part about candles in the pamphlet, so I knew that for every 1 million candles awarded to you by viewers you got a 0.01% boost in acceleration. Some quick math in my head told me that if I were to get a billion candles, that would give me a 10% acceleration boost. Pretty cool. It got me thinking about what I could do to get people sending candles my way. Maybe I should have mooned the paparazzi after all? Or maybe it was good I didn’t. Gotta stand out in this race somehow.

“Each viewer, and there will be millions upon millions, has 5 candles to give out,” said Kubo. “But they can change their mind at any time and take that candle away, give it to someone else. So if you want boon candles, you gotta be entertaining. You have to make yourself stand out about all the rest! That means putting on a good show. But I’m sure none of you here will have any trouble doing that. I can tell. Especially you, Mohawk boy.” Kubo went back to teasing his favorite weirdo in the front row.

I leaned over to Kelly. “I heard that viewers this season will be able to see us when we’re not plugged in, that there’s cameras inside our ships, too.”

She frowned, her eyebrows scrunched up. “No you didn’t. From who?”

“From a very credible source,” I said. I leaned even closer to her. “Let’s see if we can spot any cameras when we tour the eggs after this, yeah?”

She gave me a suspicious, near incredulous look. But I could tell there was a part of her that wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. The show runners had pulled stuff like that before.

“And last but not least, let’s talk about credits," said Kubo. "This is something completely new this season. Well, there’s a lot that’s new, that’s true. But this season, as you know, we’ve introduced NPCs into the mix. NPCs that live in towns and cities. That means economies with money market systems. In this season, you’ll be able to take on jobs, do tasks, save a town from a baby-snatching chupacabra, blah, blah, blah, whatever—I don’t know. Point is, you can earn credits and use them to buy cool stuff. Ya feel me?"

“What kind of stuff?” shouted someone.

“I don’t know,” said Kubo. “Cool stuff. You’ll find out. Shut up. Oh, by the way, last season when you killed a player, they just disappeared. Poof, they were gone for the cycle. This season, when you kill a player, you don’t get their coins, cores, codes, or candles, but you will be able to loot them for their credits. Nice, right? Finally some immediate prizes for slaughtering your fellow colleagues. If only such rewards were available in real life.”

An awkward, nervous laugh followed that remark, as we all watched Kubo stare down someone we couldn’t see off stage.

“I smell drama,” said Kelly, to me.

“Well that’s about all you’ll get from me today,” said Kubo, with a sigh. “My bit is pretty much done.” He paused for a moment to consider something. Then he looked into the crowd with a pensive stare, a serious look I’d never seen on his face before.

“You know, I haven’t told anyone this yet. But … I think I wanna tell you all. This season will be my last season hosting this show.”

Shock and awe. Gasps all around.

“I know, I know, you young people thought I’d live forever. Turns out even I have an expiration date.” He sighed, then looked off stage again, seemingly at the same hidden person he stared down just moments before.

“But don’t y'all worry. This game show host is gonna go out with a bang. A BIG bang, I can promise you that!”

The old hero’s declaration was followed by an overwhelming amount of cheers and shouts of encouragement.

“You’re the best, Kubo!”

“I want your baby, Kubo!”

“We love you, Kubo!”

“Hey, I love you too, random person,” said the old entertainer, motioning with a dismissive wave. Then Kubo downed the rest of his water bottle, crunched it, dropped it on the stage, and walked out despite his promise to take questions.

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