by Haidji
Elisabeth, the woman working at the Stadium entrance, had told her about the room, mentioning that she could not let her go out with the baby, thinking that it was Alessandra’s child.
Something was wrong with the baby’s bracelet and Alessandra did not have her own anymore, and rules, rules are rules no matter which game it is, we need to follow the rules.
Elisabeth was also the chief of the Stadium guards, in a non-official way; she could make some rules and break others up to a point, but she couldn’t let someone without bracelet in or out.
But…she could help Alessandra to stay at the Stadium, inside a safe place for the baby, and would show her the way to this vacant room, pretending that Alessandra would also be working for the game soon.
Elisabeth had kids herself, and the baby needed to sleep, so she showed Alessandra the way to the vacant room, that was clean and minimalistic. No dangers for the baby. Elisabeth also asked the workers to find a baby bed for the baby. Or to make one. They made one with pieces from some extra Stadium seats. Six seats together and some work on it, made a baby’s bed.
There were some flowers on the window sill, and the room had a small bathroom and, by a small hallway, she could reach a cooking space, a kind of kitchenette, used by the security guards while watching the football games and other events on the external TV feeds, to pass the time on their breaks. The solution for her was to stay there until the end of the game. For her, the baby was safer with her than with the Red Cross volunteer she saw walking around. He had a strange look. She noticed that, even when he was running in another direction. He did not seem like someone that would take care of a baby; something was strange with him.
Cassandra noticed Alessandra walking with the baby as she entered to work; she turned her head and smiled to the baby, but did not really see them as she passed them, almost brushing their side. She was thinking about a way to enter into the condominium where candidate number 2252 was, and she also wanted to know what was really going on in there.
She had spent the evening thinking about the Game, and thinking about her candidate. She had stopped at the condominium entrance on the day before, on her way home. But her entrance was denied, her electronic bracelet allowed her to enter only the Stadium, so there must be a bracelet or special program only for the Condominium Staff, she reasoned.
Disappointed with her failure on the day before, she was going out in a work break, to buy some Starbucks coffee. The entrance woman, Elisabeth, stopped her to ask if she might have some clothes at home for a friend of hers and told her, because she liked to chat, that they were looking for kitchen personnel, night workers, to prepare the candidates’ meals for the next days, only two or three hours part-time, and gave her the phone number to contact them for the job.
Elisabeth liked to chat…a lot. Working together with the entrance guards, she felt like the Stadium’s guardian, as would she be the guardian in the entrance to heaven or hell.
Elisabeth also described the room where Cassandra could bring the clothes for her new friend, Alessandra, the next morning. For Elisabeth, real life was full of friends, a person just needed to speak to her longer than a minute to be accepted in her life friends’ list. Life was beautiful and she had already made more than 1000 friends in her first workday at the entrance, but some were close friends. Like Alessandra and the baby, and Cassandra, of course.
Cassandra called the number and applied for the work. It was a fast interview; she was a good professional and already part of the Game staff, in the sense that her personal data was already in the game database.
She told them that she could start right away, already on the same night if necessary; they told her that her existing electronic bracelet would be reprogrammed so she could also enter this part of the game without further security checks.
In the morning of the third day, Cassandra stopped at Alessandra’s room to bring her some of her own things, and they spoke a little.
Alessandra did not tell Cassandra how she found the baby, only that she couldn’t leave the Stadium and she needed to stay there until game’s end, because she did not have her own bracelet anymore and the baby’s one was broken…‘Kids…!’
Cassandra respected people’s private space and did not ask more about it. Almost late going to work, she was also not really interested; her mind was somewhere else.
Cassandra was smiling while preparing the candidates, but it was a kind of nervous smile, because after the fourth day there would be a day’s break, after which the second step of the Game would start; so with a little bit of good luck, perhaps she could see her candidate again, maybe already this evening…and luck seemed to be on her side, for now.
The public was still very interested in the Game, and even at home people were still jumping up from the couch upon hearing the Hostess’ voice, when she, the Hostess, promised surprises for the second step of the Game, higher prizes in cash, higher payoffs in the bets, and even more new surprises.
T-shirt sellers were making huge profits in front of the Stadium and now, even the crowd seemed to wear uniforms, wearing black t-shirts with the orange symbol on the front and the words Suicide Game on the back, printed with a fluorescent orange color.
The Hare Krishna group had left their spot near the main entrance, having abandoned their previously undisclosed idea to sell incense and deciding instead to walk among the crowd to sell lighters, which were more useful inside the Stadium, especially in the afternoons and evenings. They decided to attract attention by going back to their spot and continuing to sing their mantras when the game countdown clock started at 50.
A teenagers’ group on Facebook was organizing a contest, to create a song for the event, and to make YouTube videos about it.
The tenth and last group of this third day was ready to jump.
And the voice of the beautiful Hostess rose again over the mob’s murmur:
‘At the end of this successful day, I introduce to you, the last group of the day. They were excited all day, being prepared to be part of your day and jump for you. And now, they are finally here. Now they can show you what they can, using all their concentration, focusing on their goal, they are now an active part of…
SUICIDE GAME!
The new game
The new mania
8000 candidates and
Only one will survive
Only one can win!
Live from the Night Stadium
Nothing compares to what you'll see here
Nothing compares to what you'll watch
You already chose your candidate,
You have Made your bet
To be part of a
New and unexpected game
Now it’s time to let it all be in the laps of the gods
And when the bell rings…it is time to jump for your life!
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1!
JUMP!’
One second before the group was to jump, while still on the platform, candidate number 4957 fainted. This was something wholly objectionable and inadmissible, and that should be urgently investigated; but first, immediately covered up.
The Hostess came immediately to pull her softly, over the edge of the platform, to create the impression of a jump, so as to avoid risk that the game could be stopped for a breach of the rules (or at least of the mathematical odds); the Council saw it through the internal video system, and immediately directed the camera and projection operators to exclude all images of candidate 4957 from all the projections. It was good that the Hostess and the images’ staff were well trained for unexpected situations.
The fainter was a woman, and before the survivors’ group arrived on the ground, another staff member was already there, hugging her as one of her feet was twitching, almost touching the ground, and carrying her away from there swiftly, so fast that the public would not notice that she had fainted and not really jumped.
The cameras were aimed in another direction while a champagne glass was removed fro
m one of the celebration tables by one of the models wearing a blue dress; knocking it in her haste, it spilled over the table and fell onto the sand on the ground and shattered, but before they brought the table to the platform.
So, most probably, no one noticed that there were only 910, and not 911, celebrating the victory of the survivors, and her number would get lost, perhaps, among the losers, and maybe nobody would figure out that she was alive, or had not died.
She was not there anymore to celebrate her victory, or maybe they would think that she was out of the game for other reasons; this was an unanticipated problem, with potential implications for the betting system and the odds makers.
Should her number be among the winners or losers? One of the game administrators began to get a headache. On the surface, it appeared they had covered up this problem with their quick action. But underneath, maybe it would come to light, somehow.
They brought her back to the condominium with a minivan, with blacked out windows, where a doctor was already waiting for her.
Chapter 8
Candidate 4914 – Jens Plaato
He was agnostic. About everything, it seemed.
He believed that the question of whether there is a greater power, whether called God or anything else, never was and never will be resolved.
Sometimes, since it is a question about ‘God’...he would say empirically, ‘I do not know, and you, how do you know?’
In other matters...such as dealing with the problems of their government...he would say, ‘I do not know, but you also do not know.’
Sometimes, in personal matters, he would say, listlessly... ‘I do not know, but why does or should it concern me?’
In serious governmental problems—which it was, to some extent, his responsibility to fix—he was also agnostic... ‘I do not know how to solve this, but for that matter, who does?’
And: ‘Sometimes the way is to hire consultants, to do modeling. The idea on how to solve these problems, I do not know.
But we can create a solution to solve this problem, and to achieve a greater understanding of what is the problem, and we must do this before we try to find a solution for it.
Maybe we should ask them what to say even before we have a problem, to have the answer ready, for whatever it is.’
‘I see, I fix, I solve it.’
It was his campaign speech. That meant: all I need is my charm and presence.
Sometimes rhetoric was just another way to lie and impress persons, and he knew this.
He used to lie without thinking about other persons’ feelings, caught by the moment and whomever he wanted to impress in front of him. Many times he just used to say something that the person in front of him would like to hear, with no idea about the consequences of his words. Words are not actions, he used to think, words are just words, we don’t need to do what we say we will, or to feel what we say later on. I speak only for immediate results. The rest around me I can see, fix and solve later; I dominate rhetoric. What’s important is to catch the momentum and the opportunity to make whomever it is love me. I see the opportunity. I fix the moment. I solve the rest later on.
Of course he never spoke about his own views openly. Of course sometimes he hurt persons he didn’t want to hurt, and needed to ‘see, fix and solve’ later on. But it was as it was. Finally, he was a politician; he knew well how to use all the words, and to be agnostic, all at the same time.
Agnostic, also about his own feelings about the world. He believed it important to be always agnostic, so he would be widely understood, even for those who do not know the meaning of his words, he could convince them about his own non-existent truth. I see…I fix…I solve it. Now or later, I do it.
He also defended the nude as a rich and perfect unity of body and spirit, and as an important part of the progress of a nation.
He could also go for some environmental restrictions in the name of progress...after all; he was agnostic; as, in all its aspects, was his life.
In sum, Plaato was a master chameleon, a mimic, a complete unoriginal. He had a photographic memory, which he could have put to good use. Instead he used it to remember key words and phrases he read in philosophical and political treatises, which he then adjusted and passed off as his own, or spewed out verbatim in a convulsion of literary name-dropping; in both cases, timing his delivery for maximum credibility with his audience.
In his case, at least, beauty probably really was not even skin-deep; anyone with a meaningful soul who got to know him well enough would inevitably see the nothingness beneath the surface.
Yet in spite of that, he remained popular among a certain crowd, a frequent dinner guest at their parties. The fact that he was good-looking also helped his popularity among the unintelligensia.
Indeed, he was enjoying his new fame as the top-ranked man on a new Rumor site, ‘YourPoliticianBoyfriend’, which ranked the 21 hottest Politicians in the Country.
The site featured his photo and a quote from him upon hearing of his selection: ‘most unusually for a politician, I’m entirely speechless. It’s a tremendous honor to be selected, thank you, and very reassuring to know that if the current attempts at political reform end up breaking our economic system altogether, at least some of us have a sporting chance to accomplish something in other ways. I see...I fix…I solve it!‘
The site also gave its own commentary on each politician ranked. Of Plaato, Politician #1, the experts said: ‘it is as if, from birth, he deliberately planned every step of his life in order to sit atop the PoliticianHottie list. The media digs him, and also Hollywood movie stars, and we imagine all the other politicians hate him'.
But Plaato did have some detractors in the herd. Unlike most of the unintelligensia, their bullshit detectors were finely tuned. ‘He is a half-man’, said one.
He explained: ‘a half-man is not someone who does not have an opinion, just someone who does not take any risks for it’. ‘So, then’, said another, ‘Plaato is really a zero-man, no?’
But for him, this was just jealousy end envy. He was just the best. Some persons cannot deal with other persons’ success.
He entered the Game because it was good for his image.
He wanted to be on top of the platform, jumping into his public’s embrace.
He did not judge things, only God can judge, and he was agnostic. If he would survive or die, he did not know, but who does?
We all die one day.
So he entered the Game. He was at the top of the Hottie list, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to be the first politician in the Game, so he could be in first place everywhere.
Chapter 9
It was an emergency; the council needed to meet.
Alphabot was working somewhere else; they opened the door alone. And there was no coffee.
White, Yellow, Red, Green, Blue, Purple, Black.
All seven wearing their togas in seven different colors entered the room and took their assigned places around the round table.
Black asked the other members: No coffee? No water?
No, no coffee, no water for us today, Black, Alphabot is not here, said Green.
Alphabot is not here? Where is he?
He is working on something else, said Green, but you don’t drink coffee, why do you care?
Lets start the meeting, said Red; we have more important things to deal with now than the fact that there is no coffee here today.
There was a kind of fear in the air, as would something new disturb the presence of death in the game.
How could someone faint in the middle of a jump?
They brought the woman from the condominium to the nearest hospital to find out what happened, because the doctor at the condominium couldn’t find out. They brought her with a normal car and civilian-clothed staff, to avoid the press attention that was always around the condominium, as would the candidates already be major celebrities.
With a common simple blood test, they found out.
She was preg
nant. Pregnant? How could a woman be pregnant? Yes, a woman could be pregnant, they forgot about that.
Months ago, as they were choosing the game candidates, looking over their applications, Purple had suggested a quarantine period before the game started, because of this type of event, ‘and the possibility of other diseases’, had added the Blue Council member; but now, it was all too late, and they had deadlines, so that would probably not happen.
And Diseases?’ asked the Yellow Council member. ‘Diseases? They all want to die, why to worry about diseases?’
And the Red Council member said, ‘did you forget about the organ donations (sales)? Of course they should all be tested for diseases, and all be healthy candidates. But quarantine isn’t important, with all modern tests and equipment we have’.
‘Anyway’, continued Red, ‘you cannot competently decide to die if you’re not really alive and healthy, but our tests showed they were all healthy, all 8000 of them, including the ones that already died—but pregnancy isn’t a disease—so, I guess our doctors forgot to think about this small detail of the female being’s life.’
And Blue calmed them down. ‘Disease or not disease, doesn’t matter how they want to call it, pregnant persons could not participate in the game. We cannot be responsible for killing innocents.’
He continued on with his advice that they needed to have some moral rules in this suicide game, for God’s sake.
And now…they needed to vote. What to do? Should they allow or not allow pregnant women to take part in the Game?
Should they pretend that they did not know it, the fact of pregnancy?
‘We’ll vote about it…now’, said Black.
Or should they test all female candidates and send all the pregnant women back home?
‘But this would be really inconvenient’, said Red, who agreed that they should administer the pregnancy test, ‘But it would be very inconvenient to remove all their numbers from the already printed bet lists. We would need to print them all again, and worse, this would wreak havoc on the existing odds’. He continued to explain; it was easy to remove numbers after a game day, because all the candidates were already separated by their scheduled jump day and sequencing.
