The first couple of days after the big argument were relatively quiet. The micro-cameras were back online that night and Jennifer made sure to apologize and diminish the situation to ‘a buggy day for Calista that made her crash’. The viewers remained suspicious and split between the (big) accusatory side that condemned Calista’s behavior and the (small) sympathetic side that understood Calista was probably uber-stressed from the portfolio and new fashion designs.

  But when the security scan of her at the AU Projector reached the Socializer Hub, everything crashed down.

  Many thought it was fake footage from her rivals. Others instantly believed it and called Calista a traitor. Others were in between, not wanting to believe that their precious idol would do such a thing.

  No one could deny Calista’s name being called by the Projector’s AIDA, and with Calista’s loose mouth confessing everything in her rant, her actions were confirmed. The Mask was rendered useless.

  Calista had to think up an apology, and quick. Her Level had gone from 410 all the way down to 250 in no time. Her UI plagued her with constant updates:

  -4 Rep-P

  -5 Rep-P

  -5 Manipulation

  -3 Charm

  -10 Charisma

  -8 Retention

  -10 Social Presence

  +8 Flaw

  Flaw Level Up— Level 45

  It had been five days since the exam, and all she’d done so far was mope in her room, making more outfits while pretending to ignore the vile comments and reactions from the live viewer counter.

  ‘How dare you sit there like nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘RAGERS LIKE YOU NEED TO STOP BREATHING.’

  ‘You and your sister are WORTHLESS. You deserve torture.’

  ‘They should disown Katelyn. She ruins everything.’

  Her Mental Battery Level was reaching a dangerous low of 70%, her Pet urging her to go into Full Seclusion— a coma-like beauty sleep that would last a few days to weeks. That wasn’t something she was inclined to do, though. It wouldn’t erase her problems.

  Calista paused her work and looked at the live viewer tracker. At the moment, there were over 800 thousand people watching her right now from all over the planet. Most were Earthian, but there were plenty of mixed species, and even some of the other species like Paeseoans and Seeyastians living on Earth. They were all species without special or advantageous abilities, so they would frequently socialize with each other.

  She watched the comments go from attacking her, to attacking her sister, and even her little brother. The hatred for the nine-year-old brought her anger to a simmer.

  ‘You need to gl***hing apologize. What the gl**ch is wrong with you?!’

  Apologize… she always needed to apologize. Every other day, they were saying sorry to one viewer out of hundreds of thousands because they decided to be dramatic about something. Constantly apologizing for the sake of her Reputation Level.

  “Apologize…” she said aloud, closing her design interface and slowly spinning in her hoverchair. She nodded. “Okay. I’ll apologize.”

  She stood and looked at the walls, where the micro-cameras were hidden. “I’m sorry,” she began, “for lying. I’m sorry I tried taking a test. I’m sorry I tried to get out of this life to follow something I’ve wanted forever.” She paced around her room, stopping when she saw her dance umbrella.

  It had a lot of nice memories attached to it from her Sweet 16. Her iconic dance was one of the few things she’d planned herself. It was her party, her birthday, and yet her mother had made 90% of decisions.

  That birthday had been one of her most miserable ones. It was an overblown, over-promoted, over-invited party in New York City. Tons of family and ‘friends’ she didn’t even know, all from the most elite Socializer clusters, vying for a spot on her channel. It was to be the ‘party of the decade’.

  She had managed to briefly excuse herself from the festivities, too overwhelmed by the masses of faces, Pet eyes, and intrusive questions. One of the few requests her mother had granted to her was a ‘preparation room’, where there were no micro-cameras or anything to record her— a space for complete privacy, for the first time in years. It would recharge her Battery Levels so she could perform at her best.

  She’d completely broken down crying, too frustrated to continue with the glittery, attention-demanding celebration. She’d clutched the necklace she’d been forced to remove, which was precious to her, and was also one of her few granted requests.

  Her father had given it to her for her tenth birthday, back when they were still close. It was a silver chain with a small, beautiful dancer pendant— one leg stretched high in the air and both arms were pointed back, standing on the very tip of the toes. Seeing her talent in dancing, her father had taken to calling her his ‘little ballerina’; he told her it was a pre-Utopian term for ‘dancer’. She’d never done a dance move like the figurine, but she loved it deeply, and had worn it every day since that birthday.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Just moments before, her mother had ‘surprised’ her with the most important present of the party, which was what Calista had to wear for the rest of the night. It was the emerald-studded, gold initial necklace that she was forced to wear to every important occasion. Instead of letting her to her wardrobe, she had to replace it right away to show it off to the crowd. It was a success, being iconic enough to have every pair of eyes intrusively watching her.

  That had been her breaking point. She needed at least some moments to look ugly and cry as much as she wanted.

  Then she met Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth had accidentally found her secret space and mistaken it for an open rec room. She’d started singing by herself and caught Calista’s ear. When Calista saw her, Elizabeth apologized profusely for invading her space, which instantly made Calista smile. No one but her siblings ever respected her space like that, and she’d decided to invite her as a leader that very day.

  The umbrella always reminded her of that happy moment: the day she met a Socializer she didn’t secretly loathe. Even this silly thing was being tainted by this whole lifestyle, turning it into a tiresome, impossible performance for a crowd of strangers at a stupid social school she didn’t want to go to in the first place.

  She took the baby pink umbrella, admiring it in her hands. She slowly turned it, revealing her name in the light, printed along the folds. Her fingers caressed the smooth, cold handle made of steel. She opened it and spun it softly, seeing the flower patterns inside.

  “I’m sorry…” she said again, but this time, it carried some sarcasm. “I’m sorry that I didn’t want my life to revolve around you.” She looked at the walls, wondering how many micro-cameras there were behind the pastel pink fa?ade. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t as perfect as you thought I was. I’m sorry I didn’t want to date some completely random, narcissistic bughead. I’m sorry I tried to do something I wanted for once!”

  She closed the umbrella and threw it at the wall with full force. The steel handle left a small dent in the wall, which immediately repaired itself at AIDA’s command. Calista stared at it for a while, then retrieved the umbrella, holding it like a battle axe.

  “I’m sorry that I don’t actually like morphing my body like dough,” she continued. “I’m sorry—” She hit the wall. “—that I actually hate—” She hit it again. “—the SociaLights!” A third time, and the dent was significant, taking longer to repair. As her rage intensified, she started hitting the other walls and the furniture.

  “I’m sorry I don’t want to go to some stupid glitching social school! I’m sorry that I want to do something that’s actually successful in my life!” She wasn’t even looking where she was swinging the umbrella anymore. It had opened, leaving the rib-tips exposed, which tore through the walls and revealed the gray wall full of tiny dots— micro-cameras. “I’M SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING TO DO EVERYTHING YOU WANT ME TO DO! GO HACK YOURSELVES!”

  “Cali…” Calista briefly saw Katelyn in the corner of her eye, but she ignored her, instead making sure she didn’t swing the umbrella in her direction.

  “You say we can do anything we want. Yeah, as long as YOU LIKE IT!” She stuck the tips into the wall and dragged the umbrella across, opening another large tear. “I’M GOING TO FIGHT!” She hammered the steel handle onto the cameras to break them. “I’M GOING TO DO… WHATEVER THE GLITCHING CACHE I WANT TO DO! BECAUSE I DON’T GIVE A GLITCHING TROJAN WHAT YOU SAY!”

  By the end of her rant and rage, she collapsed on her knees, suddenly feeling weakness. She hadn’t even been paying attention to her UI, which was blinking all over the place with warnings.

  Level Down: 100

  -40 Rep-P

  -20 Rep-P

  Charisma Level Down: Level 10

  -10 Charisma

  -10 Charisma

  Social Presence Level Down: Level 8

  Flaw Reveal: Violence

  Flaw Reveal: Rage

  Flaw Reveal: Murderous Intent

  Flaw Reveal: Anti-Earthian

  Flaw Reveal: Anti-Mod

  ENERGY DEPLETED: SLEEP MODE IMMINENT

  She briefly saw her whole family standing at the door, staring at her; including her father. She didn’t have the energy to question when he’d gotten home. As she looked around her wrecked bedroom, she dropped the destroyed umbrella and passed out.

  ===

  “She needs medics!” Katelyn exclaimed, running to her sister and being careful not to step on the sharp debris. Tapping on her Pet urgently, its emergency screen projected her vitals.

  HP: 80

  EB: 0% Sleep Mode

  MB: 65%— Attention Needed Immediately

  SB: 0%

  “Is she breathing?” her father asked.

  “Yeah, she’s just… I guess she’s just passed out- Quin, be careful! Stay over there.”

  “How did she…?” Her father looked around the room with his jaw dropped. “How could she break…?”

  “These walls aren’t the strongest,” Katelyn pointed out, moving her sister so she could breathe properly.

  “She was raging,” Quinlan said ironically, looking at his mother, who was standing frozen. She seemed to blink out of her daze and she checked the viewer tracker, which was in the deep negatives.

  “Are you seriously checking on them, Mom?!” Katelyn snapped. “Your daughter is unconscious!”

  Her mother quickly closed the tracker. She was still speechless.

  -20 Rel-P

  “Just get a Medic over here!”

  “Already called.” Her father carefully stepped over the debris to check on his daughter.

  “Ca-alista Me-edley, you ha-ave a me-essage from… Fi-i-istborn Aca-a-ademy. Would yo-o-ou like to vie-e-ew the message no-ow, or save it for la-a-ater?”

  The family fell silent. “It’s broken… maybe it’s a mistake?” Quinlan suggested.

  “AIDA, could you play that message on Cali’s AIDA Band?” Katelyn asked, taking Calista’s hand and verifying that the band wasn’t damaged. When the AIDA didn’t respond, Katelyn repeated herself, and the AIDA Band activated.

  The screen opened, displaying President Chrisman’s stony face. “Miss Medley, it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to advance to the third section of Fistborn Academy’s application process for the Versus Fighting School. Your pressure exam has been scheduled for Sunday, August 28th at 3:00 PM. Please proceed to your nearest TelePort to arrive in person in Washington D.C. We look forward to seeing you.” The screen closed.