by Paris Singer
“The Brattean race will be the subject of today’s class,” he began in his usual gruff monotone, “whose planet, I am certain you are aware, we shall visit tomorrow.”
Rumor had it that Mr. Sylva was over twelve thousand years old, which, given his occasional loss of memory, wasn’t unthinkable. Sometimes it could be difficult to know exactly what he said because, despite there being times where he repeated himself, the light-gray, mossy roots that started on the space between his eyes and continued on to halfway down his chest muffled his words.
I think, though, that what I liked most about him were his crazy, rolling eyes. The sockets, on either side of his head, rose into stubs, inside which they rose and dropped and rolled and spun all around as though he tried to see everything at the same time.
“Now, as you know…The Brattean race will be the subject of the class today, so…turn to file seven hundred and ninety one—Bratteans, which will be the subject of today’s class.”
A rising choir of sighs came from around the room as we turned to the file. The rotating, tree-covered planet appeared on the display, above which the name “Brattea” was written. I touched the image of the planet with my index finger, and the display zoomed in until it stopped and listed just above a great sea of trees.
“Bratteans,” continued Mr. Sylva, “are sentient beings belonging to the Arbora family, much like I am. They are diminutive in size and are passive by nature.”
“Of course they are,” I grumbled under my breath, which earned me a slap on the back of my head from Iris, who sat next to me, before she went back to dreamily staring at the Bratteans displayed on her screen.
For the rest of the class, Mr. Sylva spoke about the Brattean culture, their customs, their gathering habits and such, and I tried very hard not to fall asleep by having a staring contest with a cycloptic plant in one of the glass jars to my right. Besides, if I had done it, Iris’ hand would no doubt have found itself colliding with my head again.
After the class ended, Iris went to another of her classes, her face still beaming from the overload of cuteness she’d witnessed, and I went to mine. As the last loudspeaker announcement sounded, indicating the end of the academy day, I rejoined Iris and Pi at the front entrance, as we always did.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I’M SO EXCITED ABOUT the trip tomorrow!” exclaimed Iris, turning to Pi. “You have to see them—they’re so cute!”
“Yeah, they sound great. It’s a shame I’m not going, though.” Pi sighed theatrically, placing his hands behind his head and stretching. “Yes, such a shame. I’m so jealous of you, Seven,” he teased, tilting his head toward me, winking. I smiled at his comment, careful Iris didn’t see me.
“Well, they are cute, and you will be missing out,” snapped Iris, detecting his sarcasm as she looked round to make sure I wasn’t smiling. “Won’t he, Seven?”
Luckily, I’d already straightened my lips and had added a disapproving frown to my face. “Yes,” I agreed and lowered my eyes so I could no longer see Pi’s huge mocking grin. “Definitely.”
“Are you ready for Sphere?” he asked. I heard he was still grinning at me by the sound of his voice.
“Yeah, I left my things in my locker at the stadium, so I don’t have to go back to pick them up.”
“Are you looking forward to playing against No Face?” he taunted.
“If I play him. Today’s just practice.”
“Oh, come on, you know the coach loves putting you up against each other. You’ll totally go against him today.”
“Yes, you’re probably right,” I conceded, feeling a sense of excitement rising inside me. As much as I didn’t like One, and as much as I knew he’d be out to cause me as much damage as he could, I couldn’t help but appreciate the challenge he presented. One and I were the top two players of Sphere at the academy, and were completely evenly matched. That was probably why our coach liked us facing each other—so we’d get the best possible training we could as we prepared for the inter-academy championships.
“Look, don’t worry about it. You rock at Sphere. You’ll probably beat him this time, too.”
“Of course he’ll beat him,” re-enforced Iris, throwing her arms around my neck in a way that was more like a headlock than a hug. “Our Seven is the best!”
“Thanks, Iris,” I managed, feeling my head becoming as hot and red as a Billox root.
We crossed the gardens, following the path that led to the stadium toward the back of the academy grounds. The purple and green grasses glittered like golden stars. Students lounged and chatted all around while they waited for Sphere to begin.
The closer we came to the stadium, the bigger and more impressive it became. The enormous white spherical structure stood proudly as various luminous bands rotated around it, all advertising different up-coming events and exhibition games in glowing neon yellow and pink letters. The large double doors were still closed, but we walked around the base of the stadium to the single door at the back, which was reserved for players and crew. Friends weren’t really allowed, but no one dared say anything to Pi or Iris, so they always tagged along.
Inside, the constant sound of clangs echoed down the narrow white and silver halls as we marched deeper inside the stadium. On both walls holographic projections of flyers, notices and posters filled every space with some persistent ones following anyone who walked along the halls, shouting their information at them until they were paid attention to.
As we reached the locker room doors, I made plans with Iris and Pi to meet after practice. Once they walked on ahead to the main arena, I entered the locker room. Inside, rows of red lockers divided the room into rows with long, red benches, running the length of the aisles. The white walls were adorned with images of the most successful Sphere players throughout the ages, including Jirod Nemis, who’d never lost a single game in his three years in the professional Sphere circuit.
In each corner of the room, Mechanical Odor Operators, or MOOs, stood waiting for returning Sphere players in order to urgently spray their entire bodies before their lingering odors could spread.
Certain species didn’t give off particularly offensive smells when they sweated. Some, in fact, like the Dorocas, didn’t perspire at all. Others, however, gave off smells so potent when their bodies secreted sweat that if touched or inhaled it could cause extreme dizziness, vomiting, or worse.
The showers at the back of the locker room were tall, cylindrical capsules that closed behind you as you stepped inside them. Nozzles filled the sides and ceiling with a panel at the back with the names of the wide variety of species that studied at the academy. There, you had to pick your own to ensure you’d be cleansed according to your needs. It was important to choose correctly, because if you picked a species that was normally washed with acid, for example, you could have problems.
I greeted players around me with a customary nod and then opened my locker. Inside, my blue and white practice suit with the number “7” printed on the chest hung neatly from a hanger with my long, black boots below it. Above, my helmet and gloves sat side by side on a shelf. I proceeded to get changed as other players drifted in and out of the room. Those who entered were immediately sprayed by the MOOs until their every odor had been eradicated. As I put on the tight-fitting suit, my heart pounded faster at the thought and excitement of practice. I sat on the bench behind me, and as I slid my feet inside the thick boots, I ran plays in my mind. I didn’t know who I’d be against, so I planned various strategies that I would need, based on the different body types and abilities of all the players who’d be there. I stood and reached for my gloves, echoes of the deafening clangs from metal balls in my mind. I strapped the ends around my forearms and then flexed my fingers to loosen them a little. Like the boots, they were thick and black with a small angular slot just above my right wrist where a light chain and ball came out.
I grabbed my white helmet, closed the locker door and headed for the Sphere arena. As I walked down the hall, the
sounds of shouts became louder and louder until I reached the tall square archway where they rose to a roar, filling the entire arena.
All over, players practiced moves alone or in pairs as others ran laps around the arena. In the center of the large room stood the ten-meter high black steel sphere where two players were having a practice game. Left and right of it were the players’ benches, which were covered by clear domes. These were used when the academy had “home” games against foreign teams.
Students sat on the stands, which ran along the side and back walls and ascended high above the arena. To my left, Iris whooped, whistled, and waved when she saw me while Pi lazily saluted and went back to eating what looked like a burger. I waved back, placed my helmet on my head and entered the arena.
“Seven! You’re late!” shouted Mr. Hist through his bushy moustache from next to the sphere. “Warm up quickly with 64. You’re up next.” he said, pointing to a student who did push-ups by himself.
64 was as bulky as Pi, but much leaner. He was a Torus, a species which, like Pi, were known for their incredible size and strength. He was a power player, relying on his enormous force to cause as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. I’d seen unlucky players be knocked unconscious by the sheer power of his swing. The impact of the ball crashed into them, sending them flying into the hard, metal sphere. Fortunately, that was as far as strategy went with him, so I wasn’t too worried.
I looked around and caught a glimpse of One, who practiced moves with one of his Morex friends toward the back. He and I had very similar styles, preferring strategy over brute strength. One, like me, was very agile and could twist and turn his body as he desired so he could score from any angle. I wondered whether we’d face each other that day, heat rising in my chest as I did.
I walked over to 64, and we nodded at each other. Despite there being a universal interpreting system that altered sound waves throughout the entire ship so we could all understand each other, 64 and I didn’t need to make use of it. In fact, he, as far as I knew, didn’t like to speak, relying mostly on grunts to communicate.
Together, we practiced dodges and flips, trying to avoid the lighter aluminium balls the other threw until moments later when the coach called us into the sphere.
“Seven! 64! You’re up!”
Mr. Hist had been my Sphere coach ever since I’d started playing. He was tough and left quite a formidable impression upon meeting him. Although I didn’t like him at first because all he did was shout at me, I came to understand that he had to be that way. Sphere was a dangerous game, and I’d seen many suffer broken limbs, smashed fingers, and concussions because they didn’t listen to him. So he had to make sure players were well-trained, and that meant rigorous training and discipline.
64 and I walked to the sphere and then climbed inside through the narrow opening at the side before Mr. Hist closed it behind us. We stood on either end of the base, facing each other. The rules were simple—one point for limbs, two points for chest and back, three points for head. Best of ten or knock out. The boots we wore had thick soles that were magnetized, so we could stand and run at any angle within the sphere, which meant attacks could come from anywhere.
64 and I pressed the thin, rectangular button just above the slot on our gloves, releasing the light chain from it. This was a beam of unbreakable, constant yellow light. From its tip, a silver metal ball, around eight centimeters in diameter, materialized and then dropped heavily onto the surface of the sphere, causing a loud clang that resounded all around. 64 and I watched each other for a moment. His chest expanded and retracted faster and faster, which told me he had psyched himself up for an attack.
Suddenly, he exploded forward, swinging his ball sharply at my head. Having already anticipated that, I instantly crouched, put all my weight behind my right foot and bounded toward him, swinging the light chain in an upward motion. The metal ball caught him on the bottom of his helmet and throat, sending him back a few steps, but not quite managing to make him lose his balance and fall.
64 paused for a moment and shook his head. All of a sudden, he arched his back and roared in frustration. He snapped his arm up, catching the ball in his hands, and quickly ran up and along the lower side of the sphere toward me. His enormous weight and the metallic soles of his boots made every step he took sound like deafening thunder. When he was nearly upon me, he threw the ball up behind him and used its momentum to swing it forcefully in a smooth upward motion, narrowly missing me as I flipped backward out of the way.
Back on my feet, I spun vertically and sent the metal ball hurtling forward, catching 64 on his back. He roared past, causing him to fly forward, bang his helmet on the sphere and crash to the floor with force. Despite the padding on the chest, back, shoulders, and legs, every impact from a ball hurt immensely.
64 groaned, reaching back toward where the metal ball had struck him. I took a step forward, but that was all he needed to try to sweep my legs out from under me with his own. As I jumped and crouched in mid-air, he swung the ball back at full force, aiming for my chest. My feet sprung back to the floor and I managed an aerial cartwheel. The hard metal ball narrowly missed my shoulder by an inch as my legs arched above my head and then came back down. Once my feet touched the surface, I thrust myself forward and ran vertically up the sphere, tightly holding my ball. At the halfway point, I flipped off and into an upside down pirouette, releasing the metal ball, which, alongside the light chain, spun horizontally with me. From somewhere behind me, I heard One’s voice calling out.
“Hey, Simian! I just kissed your girlfriend!”
His words threw me off enough to cause me to momentarily lose focus on what I was doing as I tried to locate him, which was long enough to miss seeing 64 send his metal ball hurtling furiously toward me.
Before I even had the chance to notice, it collided with my right knee cap with such force it instantly crushed it, and I was sent flying head first into the steel sphere. As I hit it with the back of my neck and upper spine, I fell hard to the floor and lay motionless. A sea of voices and footsteps rose as everything went dark.
CHAPTER FIVE
I AWOKE LYING ON the narrow, flat surface of the players’ bench with Iris hanging over me with a worried look on her face.
“Seven! Seven! Are you okay? Speak to me!”
“He’s just passed out, Iris,” came Pi’s voice from somewhere to my right. “It’s not like he’s dead or anything.”
“I know that, Pi. And don’t say that!”
“Uuugh,” I managed, hearing a faint pssssssssssst below me as the cold feeling of the misty, wet spray entered my knee. As it soaked in, the pain that throbbed and burned from my shattered bone subsided instantly.
The spray, which I’d so often used in my first year of playing Sphere, repaired and healed pulled, torn and broken muscles and bones almost as soon as it made contact with the affected area. It was an indispensable tool in that game, and one I was very glad existed.
“I’m okay, Iris, thanks,” I said, trying to assure her. I brought my hand to my head, still feeling slightly dizzy, and sat up. Flexing my knee, I asked, “Did One really kiss you?”
“No, he didn’t kiss me! Do you really think I’d let him get that close?”
“Man,” started Pi, who stood slouching in front of me, “you should have seen her when she heard what No Face had said. It took all of coach’s strength to stop her from pummelling him. Even his goon looked scared!”
Feeling slightly relieved, I asked, “Where is he now?”
“Luckily for him,” replied Iris, “Mr Hist kicked him out, along with his idiot Morex friend.”
“Yeah, so it looks like you won’t be going up against him today, bro. He was banned for a week,” said Pi just as he munched on Eruca bread.
“When I see him,” began Iris, her eyes seething so intensely with anger flames could have burst from them, “I’ll…”
“Don’t worry. You’ll just get in trouble,” I told her. �
�We’ll settle it next week in the sphere.”
Quick as a flash, Iris moved from sitting next to me to kneeling on one leg on the bench, her face mere inches from mine, making me jump a little.
“Did you forget which race I come from, hmm?” she began, squinting her eyes, her lips curling into a devilish smile.
“N-no.” I gulped, my heart racing.
“If I want to go after him,” she said slowly, “you can safely bet I would not get caught.” She could really be scary, sometimes.
“Oo, you’ve done it now, Seven,” teased Pi, his hairy, light-brown face instantly changing from smug to fearful as Iris turned to scowl at him.
“I know you could,” I began, “I just don’t think it’d be worth it. Besides, he only said it to put me off, so I’d prefer to get back at him myself.”
This seemed to pacify Iris slightly, who sat back down next to me. “Yeah, well, make sure you do, okay?” she said.
“Oh, I intend to,” I assured her.
I went back to practice, which went a lot better than it’d done up until then, defeating two other players without injury. After training was over, I went to the locker room, and after being sprayed all over by MOOs as soon as I walked in, I had a shower and then changed.
I met up with Iris and Pi, who waited just outside the stadium. Pi had to go to the cooking club he was a member of so after making arrangements to meet at the ‘shake place we always went to later, he slinked away, leaving Iris and me to walk to our halls together.
We left the academy and then entered the busy maze of narrow streets that made the town. As we walked, Iris browsed the various trinkets that were offered at the stalls and being a lot quieter and pensive than usual.
When finally we reached the path that led to our halls, she asked, “Seven, can I ask you something?” There was a slight hesitation in her voice, I thought.
