25
“Boys and girls.” Timmy jumps up and down on his couch. “May I present to you… Artificial Sky and the Wheel of Fortune. I have experienced Instant-CGI,” continues Timmy. “I have heard about weekends on the moon. I have seen the most breathtaking visual effects. But this?” He keeps jumping. “This is what you have never, ever dreamed of. Artificial Skyyyyy.”
Every time the Wheel of Fortune rolls, seasons change. I mean it.
Dame Fortuna pushes the wheel for the first time. The first change is from the sunny morning to autumn.
Brown leaves start falling upon us from the artificial sky, spiraling around us in circles. Cold and windy weather sends chills up my spine. I can smell the distinct crispness in the air. Trees grow out of the circular hole through the middle, like Jack Beanstalk’s famous tree; growing out of nowhere without soil or land, but out of air. The leaves are yellow, orange, and red.
I am standing open-mouthed, unable to express my excitement.
The wheel keeps turning. Dame Fortuna gives it another nudge, and the wooden fortune wheel starts to creak its way to the second season…
It’s winter. Nighttime. Freezing cold. My nose is kissed by a slight touch of frost. White snow falls from the sky, lighting up the darkness. Naked trees, frosted leaves, and snowflakes that look like falling stars glittering in the artificial night. My cheeks hurt from the cold. I look at the camera, and I see they are rosy. Vern sneezes.
“I can’t believe this,” Orin screams in disgust. “Rabbit hole my—” I can’t hear the rest because of the whirling wind.
“Again!” yells Pepper, sounding euphoric. “Give me spring. I love spring.” I wonder if Pepper has ever thrown snowballs at her friends in winter, chased butterflies in spring, or tanned at the beach in summer. “If this wheel rotates one hundred times, I am going to be a hundred years old, like no one in my family ever got to be.” Pepper spreads her hands in the air. Her stiffly curled hair circles around her, making her look like a witch.
The Wheel of Fortune turns one more time.
It’s spring: warm sunrise, flowers blooming out of the hole. Fresh air, clear sky. Birds are singing around us. There are butterflies fluttering next to pink roses at the edges of the ring.
In one minute, we have experienced three seasons, and now we are back to summer.
The wheel stops, and its cursor settles on a number.
The cursor on the Wheel of Fortune stops at number three.
Pepper is number three. She shows up on the screen licking jelly off her hand. “It’s actually jelly. It’s delicious,” she says.
Now it is Vern’s turn to be numbered…
“Veeeerrrrrn, let’s tuuurrrrn!” Timmy wouldn’t miss out on such a rhyme.
The rest of us follow, one by one, seasons changing with every number.
Bellona is number nine. Vern is number one — again. Orin is number two.
Leo has immunity from this game’s level. He is the crowd’s favorite, so he doesn’t get a number.
I am last, and I know one number is left for me. I am number ten.
Is that good or bad?
If Leo had changed the numbers in my favor yesterday, who did that today? Or is it that I am destined to be number ten?
After this is over, we hear the sound of buzzing machines from our balconies. A bow gun appears, attached to every balcony. Mine is set high enough that I can easily pull the trigger from where I stand. Orin is the first to reach for his gun. He points his gun at me, and pulls the trigger.
What?
Why does he want to kill me?
Nothing happens. I reach for my bow gun and try it. It can swivel over a rotating base, so you can choose your target. The trigger is locked. That’s why Orin couldn’t shoot me.
Timmy is the only one who can unlock the trigger.
Woo taught me how to use bow guns. How is this possible? Did Woo spend his life teaching me how to win the games?
“Is that it?” Bellona protests. “Are we going to end up shooting each other in this game?”
“This is brutal. You can’t do this.” Even Pepper, with her death wish, doesn’t approve of such cruelty.
“Who are these people?” Vern looks up at the huge iScreens around us. “What have we done? Why are they so happy killing us? I just played computer games, for God’s sake.”
A box with a round red button on it rises mechanically from the metal balcony. It is covered with dust and spider webs. I clean it with my free hand.
“So what are the numbers for?” asks Leo.
“Cool down, Leo,” says Timmy. “I will explain in a minute.”
“All set, boys and girls,” says Timmy. “Before we play today’s fantastic game, for the first time in history, we are happy to announce your UCP, Up Close and Personal tickets.”
An orchestral piece of music is played with marching drums somewhere. This is not a death game. This is a carnival of silliness. This is a circus of the damned. Hallucinations from the other side. The dark side of the loon.
We hear the drone of approaching aircraft. They roar in the air above us.
It’s the Zeppelins.
A New kind of Zeppelins I have never seen before, with power engines and glass balconies you can actually open. They are flying a little too low and getting closer, right above and around us. Everywhere. The game is going to be watched, not just on live TV, not just in real-time, but up close and personal, as if we are monkeys in a zoo.
Four million national viewers are watching. One hundred thousand UCP tickets are sold instantly for tomorrow’s show. This means we won’t die today. Not all of us.
“Now that we’re ready, let’s play,” says Timmy. “I want to show you something, Decca,” says Timmy in the microphone. Why is he addressing me? “I want you to stay very calm when I show you this, because the first part of the game is about you.”
Why about me? I try not to look surprised. What’s going on?
“I want you to look at this.” He pushes a button. There is a new video being broadcast on the iAm. It’s showing on the iScreens everywhere.
The broadcast shows a woman who wants to talk to me. It’s my mother.