Wheel of Fortune (10 page)

Suddenly, Pepper shifts her position, lending a hand to Vern who is about to fall into the pool. She is hanging upside down, with her legs close to my face.

Stupid me. I see Timmy’s dangerous trick now. The rain will raise the water level in the pool, which has walls high enough to meet with the hole at the bottom of the net. It’s only a matter of minutes before the crocodiles surface on the rising water and reach for Vern.

I don’t know if I should support Pepper and help Vern. I couldn’t shoot him because I believe no one has the right to end anyone’s life, but when it comes to him dying on his own because he can’t save himself, I don’t know if I should risk my life for him. It’s a survival game after all. I’ve done all I can.

Pepper tries harder, stretching her arms. “You can do it, Vern,” she spits out, not mentioning that the crocodiles behind him are only two feet away from his legs. She amazes me sometimes, believing she is destined to die, yet having the will to save others.

“I don’t like this game at all,” Vern shouts. “Where is my bonus life?”

I crawl on all fours like a spider to shift my weight until I am upside down like her, hooking my legs through the gaps in the net to hold on while I stretch my hand out to help. The crocodiles are so close to Vern. There is no way he can make it. I stretch my arms and they hurt, but I get a grip on Pepper’s foot, my other hand, like my feet, tangled in the net.

“Stop thinking you are disposable!” I scream at her in the rain.

I am sure the viewer meter is picking up. The viewers must be having the time of their lives in their homes with the popcorn and beers on their laps. You won’t see this kind of stuff in your latest Zpiderman movie.

“Life is precious. You could have an amazing life,” I scream at Pepper.

She doesn’t listen to me, trying to kick my hand away. “You can do it, Vern. You can do it,” I hear her scream. She doesn’t preach about life being precious to him. “You can do it. Take my hand!” That’s all she says.

“It strikes me that life is still precious.” Timmy’s voice is barely heard through the rain. “To a Monster, a Bad Kid, who will eventually die in a day or two, I say life is entertaining.”

The crowd has mixed feelings about this. I can tell from their voices. It’s not all hailing and clapping any more. Something has changed. Just a little. That tiny voice of reason we love to kill like a cockroach has started crawling into our heads.

Still, most of them are surely entertained.

“Stop the rain,” Bellona screams. “Turn back to summer.”

I have never imagined hearing such a sentence. It sounds as if Bellona is talking to God. She is only talking to the Summit, who has sewn the fabric of a nation, pretending to be gods.

Pepper succeeds in shaking my hand away. I wriggle, managing to keep my balance on the net, with her one left shoe in my hand. It’s her and Vern now. How many people will shout “I am alive” when this ends?

Pepper risks crawling closer to Vern. Their hands finally meet.

The audience in the Zeppelins moans. Most of them stand up again.

Holding onto Pepper, Vern climbs up finally. Clumsy and helpless as he is, he climbs past Pepper without even thanking her, using her like a stepping-stone. Raindrops run out of his ears. The crocodiles down there are getting madder, trying to stretch up to catch Vern. Then they turn their bad breath toward Pepper, who is now last in line, a foot away from their open jaws.

I climb down to her, trying to get hold of her feet again, but she is too far. Soon, the water will rise high enough for the crocodiles to reach her.

Some boy from the audience shouts Pepper’s name. “She doesn’t deserve to die!” he rants.

It strikes me as a one-in-a-million voice that no one would listen to. “She saved Vern!” The single sound keeps screaming in from the audience and his iAm.

In the middle of the mess, I remember Bellona again. They need us. The fact that they remember our names after just two days is something I don’t think has happened in previous games. Are they growing attached to us? Can we really use this? Can you use your enemy? Can we persuade them we are not the enemy?

I tilt my head and look at one of the iScreens soaked in the rain. The boy is short, grumpy, with thick sunglasses, wearing an overall with a famous construction company’s logo on it. He looks like a Five to me. He is about seventeen.

“The game is over!” the boy says. “You have to stop the game now, before she dies. I need to talk to her.”

Timmy isn’t paying attention.

I remember Pepper mentioning a boy last night, one who’s been raised like her, prepared to die at sixteen, but was surprised he got ranked a Five a year ago. They have been separated ever since.

“I love her!” he shouts out of the blue.

A Kiss Before Dying

The audience’s hearts stop…

The rain stops…

The crocodiles are suddenly locked behind bars in the pool.

The crowd is not looking at us anymore. They are all looking at the boy who claims he loves Pepper on the iScreens, and on the iAms, in front of more than five million viewers.

“You love her?” Timmy raises an eyebrow. “Her?” The camera closes in on Pepper, tangled in the net, with her once-stiff-and-dirty hair clinging to her temples, with her bad teeth, braces, and missing eyebrow. “Her?” Timmy repeats his question. “Don’t you see what she looks like? She is bad. She is useless. What could you possibly love about her?” Timmy shakes his head.

“I love her!” the boy insists.

“Mmm. That is an awfully bad-looking Monster you love,” says Timmy.

I adjust myself on the net, lay on my back, and catch my breath. Looking at an iScreen from down here, I see all the Nines, Eights, Sevens, Sixes, and Fives; they all seem human for a second. Something glows in their eyes. An invisible aura — I convince myself that I can see it — surrounds everyone. Imagine Faustina and her Teen-Gene friends. They have never experienced a moment like this: a boy from the ranked side of the world, declaring his love to an outranked, a Monster, in public, on TV, and after such a heart-wrenching moment during the game.

The Wheel of Fortune turns back to normal and summer shines through again, real summer, artificial-free. The sun warms up my wet face from the rain. Even Dame Fortune has a single tear rolling down her ugly cheeks.

Imagine all of the Teen-Genes, the Nines, the Eights, and Even the Sevens, watching this precious moment belonging to Pepper, in her honor. It doesn’t matter that the boy is a Five, bad-looking, or low-status according to the shallow rules of Faya. All that matters is the precious, ethereal emotions of this moment.

Whatever Timmy and the Summit will do to the boy, they can never erase this incident from the mind of the public or from the books of history — I hope they won’t change Pepper’s name to Zepper. But if they do alter the truth in history books, how will they erase it from every ranked young girl’s memory, heart and soul? One day, they will be grandmas, and they will tell it to their children’s children.

‘Did I ever tell you about the story of the boy who gave up his rank for the love of a Monster?’

Boy, this makes a better story than Cinderella.

The camera shows Prophet Xitler in distress, smoking his pipe, fidgeting on his throne impatiently. Timmy feels the tinge. He will crush the boy as punishment and revenge. I know it. It is the only way to keep his job. The only way the audience will not wake up tomorrow questioning the system.

“Well, I guess love carrots — I mean conquers all,” says Timmy sarcastically, biting on one of his carrots. “I say if you love a Monster that much, you might need to join her.”

We find out that the boy is already on his way to the Playa, having asked to join Pepper to tell her that he loves her. He had been watching the games from home. It will take him less than a minute to arrive in one of those speed planes provided by the Summit.

“To love a Monster, you must be a Monster,” says Timmy. The audience suddenly agrees, most of them. They have woken themselves up from the state of trance called love. “Our records show that this boy has bribed the interviewer into manipulating the iAm and giving him a rank.”

I knew this would happen. Their system can’t be wrong. They will forge the boy’s history and claim he is bad to please the crowd. The screens show the boy’s worst moments, sleeping in the gutter, footage of him in fights, holding a knife in public. Of course, the fabrication makes sense to the audience. From where he comes from, the same as Pepper, he can be easily mistaken for an outlaw. The audience doesn’t question how the boy from the poor neighborhood got his hands on enough money to bribe anyone. How could the invincible iAm possibly be manipulated? Nah, they wouldn’t use their heads on this one. They’d prefer to stay in the dark.

Should I expose myself now? Should I tell that I am the one who switched the iAms?

I was mistaken. The Summit doesn’t play God. It’s the iAm. The illusion and misconception that you can know all you need to know about humans by gathering their data.

I am not my heart rate. I am not my skills. I am not my sleeping problems. I am not my stress. I am not my fears. I am not how I look like. I am the very essence of me. I am my will. I am my passion. I am my beliefs. I am how much I can give and receive love. I am infinite and possible. I am my soul. How can the iAm ever measure this?

Most important of all, I am not that predictable.

It is this moment when the idea fills my head. After two days as an outranked, I feel so strong. If you want to rank me, if you insist on ranking me, I will show you what ranking is about. I will not be a Five, a Six, a Seven, an Eight, or even a Nine. I will be human. I will become a Ten, which everyone in the Faya thinks is a myth, because they are far from being human.

The boy’s name is Woodsy. Woodsy Brown. He is transported in a steel cage, rolled down from a plane into our battlefield.

Having left the net, standing on the asphalt on the streets, Pepper looks at me while we are waiting for Woodsy. She is mesmerized. She averts her eyes from me and looks at the boy standing in the middle of the street, holding a single red rose.

Six million viewers are watching Woodsy and Pepper. That’s better than a royal wedding. Who wants to watch a prince and a princess when they have Monsters in love?

“Go to him.” I slap her on her butt like Ariadna used to do to me. “You’re being ridiculous. Run to him.”

All of us encourage her to, except Leo who is Mr. Cool. He is brushing something out of his eyes.

“But look at me,” she says, “My clothes are all wet. I need to take care of my hair.”

I almost chuckle. “Since when do you even care?” I push her.

She walks slowly as if she is walking a rope in a circus, tilting her head to the side. He stands rigid and indecisive. Should he walk toward her? This will be painfully slow. They keep taking one step after the other until Pepper loses control and actually runs to him. He is finally encouraged and runs to her too, dropping the rose on the way then stopping a couple of strides away, turning back to pick up the rose and run back to Pepper.

They run toward each other and collide with a kiss.

A Better Kiss Before Dying

The audience is going out of their minds. Today’s movie program has been full of action, gore, scares, blood, and finally, some romance. Talk to me about movie blockbusters and I’ll tell you haven’t seen anything yet.

Monster or no Monster, no one can resist love. Timmy pushes a button, unwillingly, sending roses down from the Artificial Sky — the roses are branded as a gift from Les Fleur Flowers. Timmy will do anything to have a successful show, anything for the viewers. Even Prophet Xitler is clapping now. As long as the system stays untouched, he doesn’t mind a little puppy love. Secretly, I know every girl wishes she was Pepper. Who would have thought?