Ten Sigma

by A W Wang

  While everyone else leans forward, anticipating Rick’s imminent victory, Syd licks blood from his split lip and grins.

  The familiar spiders of doom tingle on my nape.

  Oblivious to the clues, Rick shuffles his feet, looking for an opening.

  I’m surprised when I glean his intentions. Rick will launch the same left-jab right-cross combination, intending to open Syd’s defense, and then execute a quick lunge to grapple and take his opponent out with elbows and knees. I hold my breath and wait for the disaster.

  Rick advances with a two-step and, lightning fast, fires the jab.

  Syd reacts with shocking speed and power. He dodges the fist, and slipping under Rick’s guard, strikes the inside of his bicep, deadening the brachial nerve plexus.

  The pain from the wounds have made Syd stronger.

  Realizing something isn’t right, Rick backs away, but Syd’s quicker, closing and hitting the former army captain with powerful jabs to the chin and solar plexus. A dazed Rick swings his fist in desperation. Syd slips under the punch and plows into Rick’s armpit, jamming the arm into a useless position. Wrapping his forearm on the other side of Rick’s neck, Syd locks him into a stranglehold. Rick struggles, his arms flailing over his head.

  The cheers from the circle turn into gasps as Syd squeezes and Rick gurgles for air.

  Unsurprised, I frown in disappointment.

  Rick taps out as his face turns purple. Instead of releasing him, Syd applies more pressure. Rick sinks to his knees, his eyes rolling into their sockets.

  “He’s going to kill him,” Ally screams.

  “Do something,” Simon shouts.

  I glare. Simon had no problem fighting when he thought he might win.

  While I hesitate, hating my inaction because I’m used to my husband dealing with confrontation, Jock, the best athlete and biggest among us, leaps into the circle and covers the distance to the two combatants in a flash. He grabs Syd’s arms and twists them apart. Rick crumples to the ground.

  Instead of trying to break the grapple and separate from a larger opponent, Syd reverses his grip and digging in his heels and using leverage, drives into Jock.

  After a trio of stumbling steps backward, Jock gets angry and tries to use sheer physical strength to win. It’s a gigantic mistake.

  I ball my hand and bite on a knuckle. To my knowledgeable eye and heightened senses, the new disaster unfolds in slow motion.

  Using Jock’s power, Syd shifts slightly to unbalance him. With that advantage, he twists and breaking Jock’s grip, tosses him through the circle. Ally and Walt jump aside just in time to avoid the huge tumbling form.

  One of my black threads whispers, “The meaner person usually wins.”

  This I know without being told.

  “Haiku,” I say.

  Nothing happens.

  Catlike, Jock leaps to his feet and side-steps a flying kick from Syd. He follows with a vicious punch at the back of Syd’s head. The tremendous blow carries his entire weight and meets nothing, Syd angling himself just enough to allow the fist to pass a millimeter from his ear.

  Pivoting with amazing speed and before Jock can recover his balance, Syd leaps, firing a blur of strikes past Jock’s feeble blocks, a staccato of violence erupting from the impacts.

  “Haiku,” I scream.

  Where the hell is that avatar?

  Two seconds later, Jock collapses from a broken kneecap, busted nose, and fractured ribs.

  Syd’s in a frenzy and lines up a death blow at Jock’s temple.

  Without realizing how, I’m next to them. My hand flicks out and deflects the punch from the killing zone.

  The blow still clips Jock in the head and knocks him out. Syd’s arm moves a touch to reverse and slam his elbow into my chest.

  I twist, barely dodging the strike, which carries enough power to break my ribs.

  Quicker than I thought possible, Syd swivels and, like a malevolent force, comes at me.

  I surrender ground, terrified.

  So much for not doing anything to get myself killed.

  While his outside demeanor stays icy, rage and hate swirl in his unnatural, unblinking eyes. He fires attacks that are faster, cleaner, and more ferocious than anything I’ve witnessed.

  My awareness expands through my fear, and I elude or block everything he throws at me.

  I’m better at using the black threads, Syd the red threads.

  The thought is startling, but there’s no arguing that I’m still alive and unharmed.

  Maybe I do have special skills.

  My confidence rises as I escape a flurry of attacks with only a glancing blow on my shoulder. Then, from his posture and position of his feet, I anticipate a snap kick and slip inside his guard.

  He’s off balance but resets himself with the light feet of a dancer.

  Shifting to my right for protection, I launch a right-cross at his face an instant before he fires a murderous stiff hand at my throat.

  My attack is quicker, and I hope it’s enough because his strike rips past my hasty block.

  An unseen force seizes us. My fist stops a hair from his chin while his motionless hand sits a finger’s length from ripping out my trachea.

  From the awkward position, I catch Syd’s stare. Instead of swirling malice and hate, his eyes show respect.

  I’m stunned. Given the raw emotions I saw during the fight, the calculating stare is more than a little unexpected.

  Haiku appears and shrieks over our frozen bodies, “Is there a problem?”

  Rick staggers upright in spite of his injuries and says in a raspy voice, “No, the team’s fine. It was just a training exercise.”

  With Ally’s help, Jock groggily sits up.

  The force holding us vanishes, and Syd and I unceremoniously flop onto the soft ground.

  Taking advantage of my unfrozen muscles, I push myself into a sitting position and use a moment to shake off chills from the near-death experience. It reminds me too much of my confrontation with the bald giant on the island.

  Vela kneels next to me, whispering, “Wow, that was amazing.”

  Hating the adulation, I glare past her and yell at the avatar. “Where the hell were you?”

  Haiku slowly faces me. “I have other responsibilities.”

  I return her silver-eyed stare without believing the statement. Although Haiku’s always been honest, the exact timing of her arrival was too coincidental. But, what could be gained by allowing things to get so serious? I rub my neck, confused by the unknown motivations.

  Haiku breaks the mini-showdown by saying to the others, “If you cannot act as adults and need constant supervision, then I will break up the team.”

  “No, that shall not be necessary,” Syd says in his gentleman persona. If I hadn’t seen the fight and the rage in his eyes, I’d believe him to be the most delightful human being who ever lived. He rises and, tucking a hand over the small of his back, bows with the grace of a nobleman. “My sincerest apologies to everyone. At times, I get carried away. It won’t happen again.”

  I stand with a ready retort but refrain from protesting when Suri shakes her head.

  The grass isn’t always greener.

  A relieved smile comes over Haiku’s face. She snaps her fingers.

  Although everyone’s wounds heal instantly, angry glances still find Syd, who seems oblivious to the hatred.

  Or doesn’t care.

  Haiku pops away, and a grim silence settles over the group.

  Rick and Suri are wrong. I didn’t trust Syd before fighting him. I thought he was just lewd, but now that I’ve glimpsed into his base nature and seen his talent firsthand, I understand how dangerous he is. The best choice would be to get away from him, but until I discover his secret, I decide to keep quiet.

  Syd smiles pleasantly.

  “So when’s the next training session?

  Twelve

  Taking a long sip of the gloppy blue liquid, I let my gaze trail to Syd, who is ou
tlined by the early morning sunshine filtering through the cafeteria windows.

  Good as his word, the plain-faced man has stayed on his best behavior and no further incidents have occurred. As an appeasement for the brawl that almost became a deathmatch, he arrives early to every training session and leaves late, even spending extra time with Walt. At mealtime, he adds his presence and makes witty conversation, and except for an ever-present grin of stupidity that sticks to his face when he sucks down the blue liquid, he’s a charming companion.

  Syd’s not what he appears to be.

  At least beyond the lecherous looks and covert glances, which are the least annoying of his traits.

  Partially, I’m bothered by his wild mood swings that encompass everything from lashing out at all enemies to his agreeable gentleman persona. Also, there are his eyes and their unnatural focus. I’ve never seen him blink. Not to mention, the malice they radiated during the fight. He would have killed Rick and Jock. Even in his current placid state, I can sense the simmering rage threatening to emerge. He enjoys pain, and worse, loves inflicting it onto others.

  And somehow, everything I’ve noticed is a symptom of something deeper, and something I’m missing.

  Trying to ignore loud snickering from Ally, I blow out a breath.

  Given the fixation Syd has for me, I wonder for a crazy moment if he’s my husband, following from the real world.

  I hold back a smile at the silly notion. One condition of my enrollment was that Nick would one hundred percent believe I was dead. While they both have paid me the same level of attention, Nick was loving and nurturing, while Syd is different—possessive, jealous, and dark.

  Definitely not my husband, but perhaps the bald giant?

  Although more likely, the idea is also ludicrous. While I fought Syd to a draw, my fight with the bald giant wasn’t even close. And when I look at Syd, all I see are riddles, but when I think of the bald giant, all I have is fear.

  They’re both malevolent but in different ways.

  But then, who is Syd?

  Somehow, he’s something less than everyone, yet at the same time, something more.

  Syd catches my gaze, and his thin lips return a bright smile. While similar to Haiku’s vapid expression, considering my current train of thought, the whole picture only adds to his creepiness.

  I tactfully nod and look away, pretending to be interested in a conversation between Suri, Vela, and Carol.

  Suri winks at me and then continues telling a crude joke, the sexual innuendo generating embarrassed snickers from Carol and Vela. After she delivers the punchline, I throw out a pained smile amid the forced laughter.

  While Suri’s means of rebellion is the pursuit of sex, I’m more practical. Ally was right when she compared Home to a weird Garden of Eden. But given the dystopian nature of our existence, the snake has already polluted the surroundings. Something is wrong with this world and Syd is somehow part of it.

  Although the line of thinking is harsh and paranoid, at least in my mind, Syd represents the greatest threat to everyone despite the looming specter of the next phase.

  Even if it kills me, my rebellion will be solving this mystery.

  Rick proposes a toast, and the idle banter stops long enough for everyone to sip from their pouches.

  Watching the others delight in their food fantasies, I keep my mind clear, letting the blue liquid swish around my mouth as I plan my next actions.

  Courtesy of a Haiku discussion with Rick, today is a free day to acclimate ourselves to the virtual surroundings. For different people, free time means different things. Some want to wander around the vast space of Home while others want to hang around with everyone else in a normal setting.

  I’m trailing after Syd to discover his secrets.

  When his breakfast pouch is empty, Syd takes a moment to remove the stupid eating expression from his face, and then after rising and saying polite goodbyes, he walks from the cafeteria.

  As he reaches the door, I excuse myself from the table and slip past a row of food-slurping zombies, chasing after him. When I get outside, Syd is strolling toward the early morning sun and the shaded eastern skyline. I follow in stealth, using the cover skills provided by the threads.

  During the next hour, Syd meanders, doing nothing of interest while being more uninteresting than anything I could have imagined. He speaks with no one and interacts with nothing. Walking with the focus of a gnat, he randomly changes direction, his attention moving from one fleeting thing to another.

  As he continues, his movements become more erratic, forcing me to jump in and out of cover, acting nonchalantly to the platonic leers of curious passers-by, and then running and catching up to him to only again repeat the same process when he flitters in another direction.

  Bewildered by his actions, my patience evaporates, and I gnaw on a thumbnail, battling the urge to run from hiding and scream at him to do something, anything different.

  Finally, after enough time elapses for the long morning shadows to shrink and blacken under the midday sun, and right before I’m about to give up the hunt in order to preserve my sanity, Syd quits his direction-less path and saunters to a broad soaring walkway. He follows the alien symbols embossed over its surface to an elliptical platform sprouting from a sky-high building weighted by a spiraled crown.

  When Syd disappears around a wide support column, I leap from my hiding spot and sprint after him. As the platform comes into view, the cap of the leprechaun floats from the opposite side.

  I duck behind a shallow wall.

  There are whispers and then a faint tremor rattles the ramp.

  After a few silent moments, I peek.

  Only broken shadows from the overhangs rest on the empty platform. The hateful avatar and my quarry have vanished.

  Perplexed, I march up the walkway and stop in the middle of the elliptical area. Except for the stale scent of cut grass, nothing breaks from the ordinary. I dash to the opposite walkway and then circle the enveloping walls.

  They’ve vanished.

  Frustrated by the finish of the morning search, I throw up my hands and frantically look for any clue as to their whereabouts.

  There is nothing, except a blinking green light by the main doors. It’s odd because the indicators always glow red, signifying a locked status.

  I take wary steps to the side panel, and pushing through some indecision, press the circular button in its center.

  Hidden machinery whirs and the massive doors separate, letting a breath of musty air roll past me.

  Wrinkling my nose, I peer into a star-shaped room. Sunshine pours through long single-panel windows crawling to the barely visible ceiling. Overhead, a broad balcony under a pair of cascading blue banners spans the wide space. Except for rectangular control stations, the rest of the place is deserted.

  Because it’s an afterthought; nobody should be here.

  Before my mind can think of reasons not to enter, I step past the threshold.

  The doors close with a metallic thud.

  Afraid to advance but unable to retreat, I surrender to my curiosity and edge into the building, not knowing where to go.

  Although no marks are on the shiny floor, avatars leave distinctive odors. After a moment of sniffing, I detect a grassy scent and follow it to a concrete staircase leading into the lower levels.

  None of the threads offer any experience for detective work, but overriding my worries, I tread down the stairs to a narrow landing, which serves as the entrance to a confined hallway lit by dull ceiling panels. Still trailing the leprechaun’s odor, I turn to my right and head down the long empty space.

  The passage soon leads into another winding staircase and following more sniffing, I slip further into the bowels of the building. The trail descends past many landings with each level becoming progressively darker and less detailed. Finally, I reach the bottom and follow a pathway illuminated only by sparks of red light. However, the grassy smell is stronger, and not wanting to miss
my chance to discover Syd’s secrets, I hurry.

  Before long, the dots fade in number and intensity, and to continue, I slow, feeling with my hands for each step.

  Total darkness soon surrounds me.

  Even worse, the scent fades.

  I stop, attempting to orient myself and control my growing fear. I’m on a narrow path confined by guardrails. Guarding what, I have no idea.

  While there aren’t any reference points, the volume below feels huge and foreboding while the ceiling seems an infinite distance away. When I stretch my hands past the metal rails, they meet emptiness.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Sweat trickles down my body. While everything is light and overly happy above the surface, down here in the darkness, the mood is the opposite. My inflated imagination conjures hordes of oppressive things floating nearby. Swathes of misery, hate, fear, anger, even murder, as well as every other dark part of the human psyche feels like they’re seeping into my being.

  When I was dying, volunteering to go into the great unknown was easy. But now, because of my health, I have more to lose. And while I have a terror of the bald giant, this is far worse.

  None of which matters.

  Determined to solve the mystery, I push further on the path, becoming more disoriented with every step. The nausea rising inside my body reminds me of the worst of the treatments during the worst of the sickness.

  Although the scent of the leprechaun vanishes, I still sense Syd. But in my current confusion, he seems scattered like sunlight cast through a prism, except instead of colors, the spectrum of his being is splayed across the neighboring space. While the differing aspects represent mostly shades of hate and sadism, surprisingly, there are pockets of humanity.

  It’s all nuts, and even though I’m close to losing my grip on sanity, I haven’t come this far to quit. Whatever the riddle is, I’m close to the answer.

  After a few more plodding steps, I sink to a knee, overcome with faintness. My mind disconnects from my body, which strangely seems rubbery and soft. The feelings remind me of my entry into the virtual universe, of being shredded, the threads threatening to rip apart my being.