WICK (The Spark Form Chronicles Book 1)

by Matt Doyle

  “Roll him over” yells a blur at the back of the room, and suddenly I’m being lifted from both sides.

  “Unhand me,” I yell and try to push them away, but my body is theirs it seems. When did I stoop so low as to become nothing more than a rag doll? No, suspended like this, I am more a puppet than a doll. Perhaps this is some sort of Hell after all. Yes, I’ve died and now I am to be manipulated, abused and humiliated as punishment for my treatment of others.

  Am I supposed to plead for a second chance now? Pah. Send me back and I’ll do it all again only worst if this is the best you blasted demons can do.

  The cold steel floor leaps into my vision without warning and I can feel my body convulse as I’m thrown into an uncontrollable coughing fit. It seems that the Gods have returned my senses to me just as I’m about to remember what I had for breakfast. Oh, the dignity life affords me. Still, at least I can enjoy the horrified groaning going on around me. You’d think these whelps had never seen vomit before. “… The smell,” someone cries and gags, leaving me to smile beneath another spasm. If only you could taste it too. The acidic after taste, the hint of blood. Oh and don’t forget the sound of the wet slap on the floor or the sharp headaches that come with each wretch.

  I spit as much of the after taste as I can into the puddle and say, “Drop me in it and you’re life won’t be worth living.”

  “Get him a chair,” says a voice that I am now beginning to recognise as Sean Carlston’s, and just like that I find myself hoisted up and my arms flung over the shoulders of my puppeteers. My feet have regained enough feeling for me to note how cold the floor feels, but I can’t do much more with them than wriggle my toes as yet. “Now,” says Sean as I am positioned in the chair, “would you mind telling me what exactly you were playing at?”

  “Oh, couldn’t you tell?” I laugh, lightly flexing my arms. “I was having a lovely nap, what do you bloody think I was doing?”

  “This tournament is over Connor. For you anyway.”

  “All of you, get out!” I scream, the anger overtaking me as I try to rise from my seat but find myself quickly collapsing back again. “Except you Carlston. I would speak to you alone.”

  The medical staff look to the bastard for approval and wait for his nod of consent before filing out one by one.

  “I am not done here,” I sneer once we’re alone. “I won my match, I have two more tomorrow.”

  “No, Connor, you don’t”, he replies. “You won’t survive two more matches. You nearly didn’t live through this one.”

  “But I did, didn’t I?”

  “Barely. Oh, and the doctors found this,” he says shaking my half empty pill bottle at me. “It fell out of your pocket when you collapsed.”

  “And?”

  “And I sent them to your changing room as a matter of course,” he says reaching down by the door and picking up what appears to be one of my small bags. “They found these as well.”

  “Careful,” I warn, catching the bag as he throws it at me. “This bag is worth more than you’re bloody life Carlston.”

  “With the amount of medication that’s in there, I don’t doubt it.”

  “Oh stop your sodding worrying. There’s nothing illegal there, it’s all prescription.”

  “That’s what worries me Connor. How in the Hell did you get past the pre-tournament medical?”

  I laugh, giving my neck a much needed crack and opening one of the pill bottles. “Money can’t buy you a clean bill of health, but it can pay for the bloody certificate, can’t it?” I swallow one of the pills dry and shoot him a sarcastic grin. “I gave you more credit than that.”

  “Well there is no way you’re getting clearance for tomorrow. Once you’ve recovered enough to move, I’ll have someone escort you back to the hotel. I’ll announce that you’re dropping out during the wrap-up show.”

  “No, you won’t,” I yell, finally rising to my feet and grabbing Carlston by the shirt.

  “Yes,” he replies, holding my glare with calm resolution, “I will. I will not have someone die on my show.”

  “Make me beg and you’ll regret it Carlston,” I say, dropping his shirt.

  He narrows his eyes at me and asks, “Why are you so dead set on this?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m dying, you bloody moron.”

  “You’re dying quicker by being here.”

  “Good!” I grunt, sitting back down again. “I don’t know how long I have left. I can either sit and wait for it, or I can face it down out there. Out where I belong. Out in the one place that I’m not a miserable old bastard with no bloody future other than to fall asleep alone in his chair and not wake up.”

  “You’re still a miserable old bastard out there Connor,” he sighs.

  “Yes, but a miserable old bastard that can make you money. All the flash lighting and the music, all those videos, all that talk about marketing to the lowest common denominator, set pieces like that nonsense with Djorkiev … Spark Forming looks very different to how it was in my time, but the overall goal is the same. Emblem want to make money.” I say, twisting my mouth into a malicious grin. “You heard the fans Carlston. I guarantee you that my match tonight pulled more viewers than either of the first two. You and I both know that Forrester will win tonight. Can you imagine how many people will watch tomorrow to see John Forrester versus Connor Ford, the champion versus the legend?”

  “I’m sorry Connor, but you’re wrong. Money does not take precedent over human life.”

  “Oh, doesn’t it?” I sneer. “Then how about we play a game? You ring your bosses and tell them exactly what’s happened. Tell them everything that I’ve said. I promise you Carlston, they won’t be kicking me out of the tournament, they’ll be e-mailing you a waiver exonerating them of all responsibility should something happen to me.”

  He blinks, unsure if I’m serious. Come on you bloody fool, take the bait.

  “OK,” he says finally, pulling out his phone. “But if they say that you go, you drop out of the tournament voluntarily.”

  “Deal,” I reply.

  MEERA THORNE - 16:45

  “I’m …” I pause. How am I feeling right now? This is exactly what I wanted. It’s the reason I came here, the reason I asked Hong Chan for help in the first place.

  “You’re …?” Hong Chan prompts me.

  “I think I’m OK.”

  “You’re not scared at all?” he asks as he finishes zipping his bag.

  “A little,” I say quietly, bringing my knees up to my chest. It feels good to be back in my normal clothes. I did feel bad washing the makeup off though. I hope Jeanine doesn’t mind doing it again tomorrow. “You said she’s brining someone with her?”

  “That’s right,” he says with a nod as he starts packing another bag. “Maria. She said that she and Fahrn have been together for a few years now.”

  I smile at that. “I’m glad she has someone. Was Maria nice?”

  “She seemed to be. I get the impression that she’s very protective of Fahrn though. Seems odd to think that Fahrn would need protecting, doesn’t it?”

  “I like it. It means that she’s not really as scary as she is on TV.”

  Hong Chan laughs. “That doesn’t always ring true. Sometimes, we stick by the most undeserving people. You’re probably right about Fahrn though. She always did take Spark Forming seriously, so it would make sense that she’d find a successful character and stick with it, regardless of how different it may or may not be to real life for her.”

  I watch him finish packing and start to ask, “Does she …”, but my voice dies off the moment I start talking. Fahrn has agreed to meet me, that should be enough to answer the question, but I need to hear it from Hong Chan. That’s what stops me though. Part of me is still worried that he’ll tell me I’m wrong.

  “Does Fahrn remember you?” Hong Chan asks, looking over his shoulder to check he’s guessed my question correctly. I nod and he hauls the bags up over his shoulders as he c
ontinues, “She seems to. She saw your match and came looking for you but didn’t know what changing room we were in. Maria said that she was really upset.”

  “Upset?”

  “Sad, not angry. Seeing you on TV really caught her off guard apparently. Actually, thinking on it, Maria seemed to know a fair bit about you. You haven’t met her before have you?” I shrug and he continues, “About your height, short sorta scruffy brown hair, baggy top? Sorry, that’s not a great a description, is it?”

  “I don’t remember anyone like that,” I reply, shaking my head. “Maybe Fahrn told her about me? If she was upset, she might have needed someone to talk to.”

  “Maybe,” he says, but he seems unsure. “Anyway, I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough. You ready?”

  I nod and hop off the chair, reaching behind my sweater as I ask “Hood up?”

  “Hood up,” he says and we pull them up together.

  JOHN FORRESTER - 16:50

  I never get tired of moments like this. Whenever we have to walk anywhere together, we both have to keep our eyes and ears peeled for anyone else that might be coming our way. If we spot anyone, Carnival pretends to be just another Spark Form that happens to be fully manifested and set to follow a strict path and sequence of movements thanks to a ‘slightly illegal but it’s OK because it’s me and I’m a little bit famous’ card hack. It kinda makes me feel like I’m a kid again, sneaking out of my parent’s flat at night so that I could go play Spark Forming with my friends. We never went far, just to the garages behind the tower block, but it was still way more dangerous than we realised back then. We all knew we were being naughty too, but that was part of the fun. The best bit though was that I would somehow always manage to sneak my Mum’s bath robe out with me so that I could pretend to be Connor Ford. I had such an awesome scowl. Creeping around like this makes me nostalgic about stuff like that. I’m not pretending to be Connor Ford any more, but we are still playing make believe.

  Most people would probably find … well, actually no, scratch that. Most people probably wouldn’t get themselves into this sort of situation in the first place. In the unlikely event that someone did somehow manage to get themselves into a remarkably similar situation though, they’d probably find a much easier way to deal with the whole thing. Such as switching Carnival back to Data Wick mode then switching the Wick off until they were somewhere they could load her up again safely.

  Me though? I couldn’t do that to her. Not again. I mean, I used to when I first realised what was happening, but you could tell that she didn’t like it. We could be happy as anything just chilling with the TV or a book or something and we’d hear someone coming so I’d shut her down. It was easy at the start. You just remove the card and hit the off switch. It’s not like it’s physically any harder now or anything, it’s what it did to her that makes it impossible for me.

  When I’d load her up again, her mood would be different. She’d be confused, sad, mostly scared though. It really didn’t seem like a big deal to me at the start, I mean, she was a Spark Form, she was designed to be loaded up and shut down. Even with the way she was acting, I’d just kinda figured that shutting her down was the same for her as going to sleep was for me. It took me a long time to figure out how different it was. I’m still around when I’m asleep, Carnival isn’t when she’s switched off. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be awake one minute, not exist the next, then come back again knowing that, for a while, you just weren’t anywhere at all.

  She never did tell me if I’m right about that. That’s not got anything to do with the language barrier though. We choose to communicate in the way we do because it suits us. We don’t need to speak the same language to understand each other. Besides, Carnival can speak human languages, a lot of them in fact, they just don’t feel right to her. She used to write stuff down if she needed to, she still does sometimes, but she tends to prefer to use the written word as a weapon of mass amusement rather than a way to get her point across. No, I just don’t want to upset her. I tried asking her once and it was like even thinking about it threw her. She just couldn’t get the words out. In any form.

  Even now though, I’m pretty sure that that was it. It feels right.

  I give her hand a little squeeze and she gives me a curious look. “Don’t worry,” I say smiling, “just thinking about things.”

  She rolls her eyes, gives me a light grunt and goes back to being on alert.

  As we near the end of the corridor, we both catch the sound of a door opening just around the corner. Carnival instantly takes on a whole different feel. She lets her eyes glaze over slightly and they become suddenly fixed straight ahead. The subtle things go on hold too. Her ears stop their occasional twitching, and her tail becomes still. She even stops breathing. That’s always been an odd one actually. When we’re alone, she doesn’t just look like she’s breathing, she does all the little things that you don’t always consciously register, like when her breath catches if something surprises her. When she pretends like this though, it all just stops. At first, I used to think that she could hold her breathe indefinitely but then I realised that she probably doesn’t actually breathe at all. Whatever the program was intended for, it was clearly meant to blend in. When you look at it like that, it kinda makes sense that Meera Thorne looks human. Finn McCourt too.

  I respond to the potential threat by doing my best impression of one of those spies you see on television dramas that are supposed to be competent, but you know that in reality would be rubbish. Or in other words, I lean back against the wall and peer around the corner in a relatively obvious fashion. Luckily, the source of the noise is walking away from us rather than towards us, so he doesn’t catch me mid-shenanigans. “Coast is clear,” I say, turning back towards my fuzzy companion and adopting a mock British Secret Agent voice. “Best get moving before the enemy spots us.”

  I turn to continue our merry jaunt towards the entrance area but notice a distinct lack of Carnival padding along beside me. Turning back to her, I notice that she hasn’t budged from her spot. I completely fail to realise why until Fahrn Starchaser and Maria Grace walk right past me, heading back the way we just came. Luckily, they seem as oblivious to me as I was to them. Once they turn the corner at the opposite end of the corridor, Carnival flicks her ears, checking that the coast is actually clear this time, then relaxes. She glances back the way the almost-caught-us-duo went, sighs and lets out a short, light growl.

  “They did seem a bit pre-occupied, didn’t they?” I ask, offering my hand. “Well then, shall we?”

  Carnival yawns, feigning disinterest then takes my outstretched hand with a cheery snort and sidles up next to me as we resume our quiet stroll to the entranceway.

  ROUND ONE: JOHN FORRESTER (CHAMPION) VS FINN MCCOURT - 17:00

  The arena lights lower for the final time this evening and the crowd explodes into a mass of noise. Some are cheering, others are clapping or stomping their feet, but most importantly, not one person is silent. Eventually, the fans manage to fall in synch with each other to start a simple chant of ‘Forrester,’ clap, clap, clap, ‘Forrester,’ clap, clap, clap. Even as the first sustained synth note blares across the speakers, they continue to call for the defending champion.

  Up on the Big Screen, the words ‘QUADRO QUALIFIER’ appear and quickly fade out again to be replaced by ‘FINN MCCOURT’.

  Song: A Gift for the New Age

  Band: The Lighthouse Catalyst

  Genre: Electro Progressive House

  The spotlights hit the Battle Zone, spin past each other a few times and shoot off towards the entranceway, finally converging in front of the curtain just as two staff members pull it open to allow Finn to float through on his Office Glider. He lets the machine sway lightly from side to side a few times, giving the spotlights a chance to synch up with the Gliders wireless tracking system then moves off down the ramp, arms crossed and head held high. In response, the fans have now changed their chanting to ‘You’re no
t Forrester’, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap, ‘You’re not Forrester’, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

  Finn appears completely unphased by this reaction, his face remaining unreadable as he moves slowly out across the Battle Zone. Just as he reaches his Competitor Area, he stops the Glider and removes his sunglasses, taking his time over folding the arms and placing them in his suit pocket.

  Rather than disembark and complete his entrance, he instead gives the crowd a smirk, turns around and begins slowly floating across the entire Battle Zone to the opposite Competitor Area. The fans, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the defending champ, now seem torn between continuing their chanting and booing the debuting player. The resulting noise grows hostile long before Finn clears the field and brings the Glider to a stop. With the jeers echoing around the arena, Finn flashes the fans another smirk, turns his Office Glider around and starts heading back to his original Competitor Area.

  When the final notes of his entrance theme plays over the PA, Finn has only cleared half of the Battle Zone. Rather than reboot the song, the sound team leave him to complete his entrance with nothing more than a loud ‘You suck’ chant from the crowd to accompany him. Slowing to give the fans a mock yawn, Finn takes his time over completing his journey, even teasing turning around to make another circuit before finally stepping off the Glider and taking his position in front of the powered down Sky Control System.

  The cutting of the spotlights sends the crowd into a loud roar of excitement, the cheering starting before the words ‘2916 SPARK FORM WORLD CHAMPION’ can finish fading in on the Big Screen and continuing even after they’ve disappearing again behind a wall of flames. The video display only remains blank for a few seconds before the name ‘JOHN FORRESTER’ sweeps into view.