by Chris Vaughn
"Gladiator. Claudia will lead the way." a voice spoke from somewhere.
Claudia, motioning him forward, carried some of the cords. Standing, he looked behind, and saw Domitia holding the rest of the cords. Cord upon cord attached to the back of his breastplate, his helmet, and his belt. With each step, he could even feel cords attached to the back of his shoes.
The crowds cheered again! Someone may have achieved victory. Someone then suffered defeat.
Walking down a short hall, the three approached a room with even brighter lights than the one they had left. How was so much light in this part of the Coliseum possible? Sextus was right, they were below the Arena, as the noises he heard coming from above the ceiling were louder now.
As they walked into the bright room, Claudia placed glasses upon her face. Dark glasses hid her eyes and gave the look of a specter. Dark eyes, white mask, and a white robe--he felt he was being led by an angel of death. Being a meter in front of him, he wouldn't have noticed had she not been her turning back to look at him. She had done something to her gown, and as she turned her eyes saw his eyes looking at the side of her exposed breast.
He knew that for whatever reason, she wanted him to notice her chest once again. See her gown catch the air in the room, and his eye.
"At least I will have one last glance upon a woman before fighting. She's not Justina, but she is beautiful," he whispered.
Sextus turned around to catch the eyes of Domitia. She also had dark specter glasses on. Angels or demons before and behind him, a fitting metaphor for walking into the valley of death.
Entering the room, the light was so bright he brought his hand up to his face to protect his eyes. He thought he noticed Melitta, the female gladiator from breakfast, across the room from him, but couldn't see clearly enough to know. Beside whoever, were two nurses wearing the specter glasses, holding cords, and waiting.
"Gladiator Sextus, please stand upon the mark on the floor," Claudia said.
"It's so bright I can't see the mark."
"I'll lead you to it. Your eyes will adjust later. Give it a moment." How could they adjust? Sextus thought. It was as if the lights of the sun was brought into this room by the gods.
Claudia gently grabbed his hand. "Follow me, I'll take you there. Fight well today, brave Gladiator."
Together they walked several feet, and her grip firmed upon his hand as they must have come to the spot. If this was the spot, Sextus couldn't tell. He just obeyed.
Behind him, he could hear steps and clicking or snapping. With each snap, it seemed to his mind his body became more alive. His feet, then his legs. Click after click, snap after snap. His waist, then in stages his chest. How he would love the specter goggles to see what was taking place around him and for the opportunity to size up his surroundings.
"Gladiator, I am placing in your hands your shield and sword. I've been instructed you are right handed."
"That's right."
Sextus could feel something being placed in his right hand, and on his left something being attached.
Click. Snap. Click. Snap. Click. Snap.
"One more moment, and you will be at full status to enter the Arena."
With that statement, his eyes flashed. Bright painful light one moment, and then instantly dark, followed by stars. Like when you close your eyes and you don't see the dark, but the millions of star lights when you hold them tight.
With another click or snap, he began to see that he was in the Arena, without a soul sitting in the seats. Facing him was the image of a Gladiator, but not a face.
"They must have their face covered. I may not know who I will fight today.
"Name yourself," he called out to his opponent.
No one answered.
Turning and looking around, his breasty nurse was gone, no one around him but an empty arena, and what appeared as a lifeless opponent. In a flash, it seemed to Sextus he was where he would live or die. Not wanting to start early, he paced around, back and forth, to get a feel for what he thought was coming up.
Although the clicking behind him had stopped, there was still clicking taking place from somewhere in the room.
Before him, like a ghostly apparition, he could see the feet, the legs, the waist, and then the chest of an opponent appear. The chest was not that of a man, but of a woman. Then the face. It was Melitta. How had he been moved to the Arena without his knowing it.
"Gladiator, you are almost fully engaged for the games in the Arena. This is the last time you will hear my voice. I'm Claudia. Fight well. Live long. We Salute you." He thought he felt her breath in his ear, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Sextus looked around, but there was no one around him. He turned to see around him, but still no one was in the stands. Only the other gladiator before him across the arena.
"Some ten meters, likely. Enough to get a running start before attacking." Sextus thought.
The other gladiator was still. She was not moving at all but appeared as a statue.
Chapter VII
"Claudia, Domitia, do you have Gladiator Sextus fully interfaced with the servers?"
"Yes, Magistrate."
"Is he secure in the stall?"
"Yes, sir."
"Begin the boot sequence for holography program, Digitus Coliseum, Game 3, opponents 5 verses 6."
Technicians in white lab coats moved around, checking the neurological cabling attached to the gladiators helmets, chest plates, arms, and feet. The room was so cool everyone could see their breath. The attendants could see the breath of the gladiators out of their nostrils.
If Sextus could see Claudia now he could tell , by her gown that it was truly cold in this room. She probably wished he could have seen this, too.
Sitting behind a control console, the Magistrate checked the programs running and the screens. Screens flashed showing lines of code executing. People and technicians moved with great execution. Others stood silent waiting for the outcome. Everyone was poised to do their job and serve the Republic.
"Are we tied into the servers of the Coliseum?"
A small, frail old man to the Magistrate's left replied without emotion. "Yes."
"Social networks activated?"
"Yes," a slender young man in his early teens, to his right replied,
"Scoring systems and pain inducers engaged?"
"Yes," came the response from the old man.
Watching a game in the control room was clinical for those here. No emotion, no crowds, no one moving. The speakers above them echoed out the shouts of virtual crowds to give the atmosphere of an Arena.
The Magistrate made a few calculations. The outcome of the games was more of an algorithm than a contest of strength, but there was always chance and luck. Part science and part art. The factors of strength and stamina played a part, but the dictates of the Republic played another. With that thought, the Magistrate pressed the enter button on his keyboard. He sat back, and watched as two bodies stood still, seeming lifeless to him and his team. In their consciousness though very alive.
On the screens he could see their actions, pacing, and strategy. Not a flinch of movement before him, but engaged in a fight to the death in a virtual arena.
The Magistrate, knowing that no one cared for his love of ancient times, chuckled as he said, “To those who are about to die we salute you. Gladiators, welcome to the Digital Coliseum.”
Chapter VIII
The alarmed sounded to signal the beginning of the fight. Melitta didn’t wait a second to prepare and see what her opponent was going to do. She ran towards Sextus. The alarm for her was as a pistol firing to start a race. She ran at a full pace with her sword raised above her head, ready to attack.
Sextus wasn’t ready for the attack. He assumed they both would take a stance, pause a moment, then start the match. Phillip had taught him such. Take a moment to prepare. Melitta was already upon him when he realized she was running, and this attack was real. Practice was over all too quickly for Phillip�
��s student. Sextus didn’t even take time to try to analyze the situation and plan a defense or attack. He didn’t have time. In lieu of a plan, he reacted exactly with the knowledge that had been drilled into his mind, and into his reflexes. Shear instinct caused him to raise his shield up to the sword that was coming down towards him. Her sword crashed against his shield.
The momentum of her weight and her running, she couldn’t stop her forward motion. For the second time, Sextus didn’t so much as respond to the happenings of events, but just fell into them. He running forced him to fall back. In falling, he flipped Melitta as he fell on his back. To those watching the fight, and those around the Magistrate in the control room, it had the appearance of a clever defensive move. Sextus hoped it appeared like a planned defensive move, but he knew better. At least he was still alive; he knew that he had been lucky too.
He jumped a couple of feet to get some distance between them in the arena. Spinning around he looked around and noticed there were no crowds around in this Arena, but he could hear them.
Illusions of reality that kept the veil tightly drawn, was the reality Sextus and Melitta fought in. In those times, the excitement of an Arena exhilarated the crowds, but the softness of generations required virtual systems to be created to keep the vulgarity out of reality. The virtual arena did not protect the gladiators, but the conscious of those who watched.
Melitta charged again, running at him again as fast as she could. Her sword again raised above her head. Sextus wasn’t sure the outcome, but with instinct, he threw his shield up and grabbed the forearm of the attack. He clamped his left hand onto her wrist, and her momentum worked with him. This time he purposefully threw himself back to make her flip again.
Since no crowd was present there not a visible reaction from the crowd, but he could hear the screams and cheers in his helmet. Screams and cheers that were actually votes, likes in virtual arena they watched from. Those votes were the thumbs up or down of the approval of the crowd.
Melitta flipped twice decided to not attack again with reckless action. Melitta had a small athletic build, but not the muscle mass of a fighter, whether that fighter was man or woman. Different people were either sent or chose to enter the Arena. Melitta did not have the training or size of someone who had made the choice willingly.
In the flip, Melitta lost control of the sword and it had fallen from her hand. Sextus acted just as he did before, but in the flip, decided to stand and attack. Scrambling to stand, not sure if Melitta would attack quickly again, he spun on his heels. He never noticed that Melitta was without a weapon; his only thoughts were on his own survival. Sextus was determined to not make a mistake, but to focus on the successful defense or attack of his opponent. Seeing Melitta not attacking, he took an offensive stance, and took a thrust at her, remembering Phillip’s word in his ears. ‘In early attacks, size up your opponent, and find a weakness’. He looked for one, but wasn’t sure. The thrust was too easy and short, and Melitta defended herself well. He jumped forward, taking his left arm with his shield and attacked Melitta’s upper body.
Melitta successfully defended the blows stepping back. She still didn’t have a sword, but Sextus’ attack pushed her back several meters away from the center of the ring. She was on the outer edge of the Arena, and Sextus had the center. Phillip’s words echoed in his mind, ‘it is the center of the ring that is the seat of power. Control it. Defend it. Hold it. Make your enemy come to you when you hold the center.’ Sextus was proud of himself, he may not have won the fight yet, and was not he could hold it, but he held the center of the Arena for this moment. A small victory sure, but to Sextus’ mind it was a victory to build on.
He took a defensive stance, holding his shield up in front of his chest and his sword tight against his right ribs. He was ready for the attack. His foot stumbled and he could feel something. A flat object that made the sole of his shoe feel uneven. He eyed Melitta, and expected her to rush and attack. She had attacked twice to his once, and those attacks had been quick. He expected her to attack again. He waited for moments, his heart beat fast and his breath was hard. Melitta stood there, still. She did not rush, but just held her shield in place, with her right hand drawn into a fist.
“Where is your sword?” he asked to himself, but out loud with a pant. He stepped back and quickly looked down and back up. This was his first fight in an Arena, but he didn’t know how many Melitta had fought. She might have been tricking him, he wasn’t sure. He looked down again to make sure, and up again at her. He was sure; she did not have her sword. He held the advantage of the center of the Arena. He held the advantage of holding a sword against an unarmed fighter. “What should I do?”
His mind raced and wondered. His decision to enter the ring was the need to protect his wife and son. With that decision he had come to the conclusion already that his decision was a death sentence. He never thought The Consul was so devious to arrest him for wanting to go against his Republic plan. Sextus now had to make his own plans, for whatever time he had left.
While he didn’t welcome death, he did want to protect Justina, and his son. Thoughts of them ran through his mind. To win would mean he could use his knowledge as leverage to protect them, and maybe save The Republic. His death would obviously end his protection of them. Even though the Consul had given his word to protect them, he knew he couldn’t trust the Consul. Losing in the Arena he would take the secret of ‘absorption’ to a grave. How to protect them with his death? How to protect them in his life? No matter the outcome his ideals wouldn’t let him die the death of a coward. If he died today, he wanted Justina to weep for him upon his death, but not to hang her head in shame.
The crowds in their helmets were silent waiting for the next action of the fighters.
Sextus stepped back from the sword. Melitta stood still. He took several more steps back, now stood two meters from the center of the ring. He offered his opponent both the center, and her weapon back.
“I may die, but I’ll not die the death of a coward. Pick it up!” he yelled at her and took a defensive stance. The crowds in his ears cheered, and the votes of approval were at the highest level.
The Magistrate in the Control Room was shocked to see Sextus’ response. Some outcomes had been planned, but Sextus’ decisions could not be. His actions surprised them all.
Melitta slowly made her way to the center of the ring. Catlike with slow movements, she leaned down to grab the sword. Taking her time she touched the ground with both hands. She picked up the sword with her right, and used her left to look like she needed to be steadied. With her left she picked up a handful of sand. When her right hand had the sword firmly she sprang forward again, throwing sand at Sextus. His eyes were slightly blinded, and he remembered the fight he saw in his youth.
Chapter IX
“Consul, what a surprise to see you today.”
The Magistrate, Secretary of Games, stood up and greeted the Consul. Everyone in the Control Room stood too. The air was at its required coolness, as the virtual reality computers put off an excessive amount of heat. Depending on where someone worked in the large room, it determined if they were dressed in more layers or less. All through the room the hum of the air conditioners and computers could be felt
“Thank you, thank you. Sorry to interrupt.” The Consul nodded at the workers, as they turned to take care of their tasks. From the attention in the room there was more excitement in the Consuls face with his arrival at this Games Control Room, than in those of the workers. The distraction for them could mean the loss of their job, while the distraction for the Consul was a perk of power.
“Consul, thank you for appearing, but this is a very busy time us at the moment. Please excuse me.” The Magistrate cleared his throat, and added a voice inflection, “This is a very exciting fight.”
“I know, I know. I wanted to see how these Games are progressing since this is such a huge season of Celebration.” he walked back towards the door addressing everyone. The Consul
raised his voice to make sure he was heard in his leaving, “I’ll take my leave, thank you everyone for your efforts to make the Games a Celebration.” Not a worker once turned to notice. They didn’t have the time to take away from their work. Virtual reality was a taxing work load at every level.
The Gladiators were completely connected with the system. Their helmets were neuro-helmets, tapping into the synaptic impulses, monitoring, and feeding, and receiving the information of the mind. Virtual reality was much like a dream where the mind envisioned a reality and believed it to be the truth. While the imagination was capable of much more than was humanly possible, people were still limited by their inhibition and known physical limitations.
The truths of logic and physics that a gladiator knew in the real world controlled him just as much as in the real world. Reality was a perception, in the virtual world, as well as certain assumed truths in the real world. Because of those internal beliefs, virtual systems had limits. The Control Room was able to gauge within certain tolerances the physical abilities of the Gladiators, and completely mirror them in the virtual realm they competed in. If only the gladiators had heard, ‘all things are possible to him who believes.’ Those beliefs limited their virtual abilities.
Pain inducers built into the equipment the Gladiators wore mirrored the damage done in the virtual arena. A knife wound in the virtual, was a knife wound in the reality of the Gladiator’s body. The reality to those in the Arena was they would leave the experience with a full set of emotions and memories, as well as aches, pains, cuts, and stabs to coincide with the battle they fought in.
In the control room, the Gladiators appeared to be some form of marionette attached to a giant puppet master. Strapped into the stalls, they whirled about with action. They ran in place, jumped, slashed and defended themselves all in protective custody of the Control Room, but faced life and death virtually. This was considered full action virtual as those around could watch how the Gladiators acted and reacted during the fight. There were times when the full action body virtual could be turned off so a technician or attendant could adjust something if necessary. Today for some reason, the male gladiator was motionless. His female opponent was in full action virtual. The attendants did not ask any questions concerning this difference in routine setup. In The Republic, and especially in this Control Room, those with authority did not encourage group input, although they said they welcomed it. The Magistrate often had an agenda, and when questioned by a subordinate, they could become an item on that agenda.
