Calista had become so depressed that her mother wasn’t as angry anymore. Seeing her firstborn daughter neglect herself, refusing beauty treatments and not even requesting the AIDA to fix her hair— it took a toll on the whole family.

  In no time, former fans of the Medleys found the footage of Lílitha pummeling Calista’s face. Now the humiliation was plastered all over both the Versus and Socializer Hubs. Both worlds were against her; one full of ridicule towards a wannabe fighter, and one full of hatred towards a traitor.

  “You have to do something,” her mother said. “Just let me take you to the spa, okay? You don’t have to see anyone. You can just go in an SD tank.”

  “I’m fine,” Calista said coldly, keeping her eyes away from her mother. The sudden kindness only angered her. Was she genuinely concerned, or was she more worried about her ‘perfect’ appearance deteriorating? Now that her fans hated her, what did she have left to care about?

  -5 Rel-P

  Approaching Outcast Status

  She was done. Her Versus career was nonexistent, and NYWS was definitely not an option. She wasn’t sure if she really missed her life, but she missed having something to look forward to. She was even considering moving off-planet. None of the other species would care about her and her reputation. She could start at Rep Level 0 without fearing someone recognizing her and trying to ruin her life one way or another. She could save up the digits for the trip, maybe even work at Cosmos with Katelyn.

  No wonder everyone made fun of Earthians. They attacked each other over the stupidest things. That was the past Socializers were so ‘ashamed’ of, yet they repeated the cycle tenfold.

  Calista crept out of her room. Even though the entire house’s micro-cameras were off, she was still paranoid. For all she knew, her mother had secretly turned them on so they’d see Calista all messy and ugly, trying to get sympathy from them.

  She slowly went down the hall to the elevator, staring at the blank, gray walls. She tried bringing up the viewer tracker with her AIDA band, but it said ‘NO BROADCAST AVAILABLE’. Either way, she felt watched. She’d always been watched, ever since she was born.

  She went downstairs and entered the HARP room, which glowed in blue when it sensed her presence. She sunk into the comfy sofa with a deep sigh, raking back her tangled mess of black hair, and said, “HARP, show me the Versus Channel.”

  The room changed from a soft glow to a newscasting room. Before her were two Earthians Calista remembered from her childhood: the national Versus News anchors.

  Xavier Hennett

  News Anchor

  Level 2,453

  Yvonne Macon

  News Anchor

  Level 2,451

  Both of them had graduated from Fistborn Academy’s School of Journalism decades ago, being two of the best students in their year. Xavier had clean-cut black hair and a pressed navy blue suit. Yvonne had a brown bob and bright blue eyes, wearing a fitted red dress with a delicate, white heart necklace.

  “What an exciting day, right, Xavier?” Yvonne began.

  “It sure is, Yvonne,” Xavier replied. “Today’s the day we find out who was talented enough to impress the judges at USA’s premier fighting institution, Fistborn Academy!”

  “Xavier, I can barely believe that this day has come. Weren’t we just covering the Junior Versus?”

  “That was already a year ago! Time sure flies. The National competition didn’t last long enough, either!”

  “Agreed. Once again, Fistborn Academy has proven itself to be the best school in the entire country. I can hardly wait to see what this year’s Versus Games brings us. In just about four months, we’ll be starting up our prelims!”

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  Calista tried to feel numb at the thought that her name wouldn’t be on the list. She regretted having wasted her time and thrown her entire career away for something so… foolish? Out of reach? She didn’t have a word for it, but she felt like an idiot for having thought she could ever pass that stupid test. She wondered why Benson Kalley had bothered giving her a chance.

  “We’ll be going through the list in alphabetical order,” Xavier clarified. Between the two anchors, someone’s freeze shot appeared, showing a tall, beefy-armed boy with tanned skin, black sclerae, and a spiky, black mohawk. “Up first, we have Liiam Aarden, a 17-year-old Mearthian starting off at Level 15. He’s been training since he was young…”

  Calista listened to the lengthy reports about the fighters’ starting stats and the anchors’ projections about their success. From what Calista heard, most new fighters admitted started off from Level 12 and on since Chrisman became the school’s President. In the past, Fistborn admitted more beginners like her with single-digit Levels. How could she ever stand a chance?

  “Number four is Corin Abelsen, a 15-year-old human starting off at Level 10…”

  The word made Calista twitch and she scoffed at herself. She was afraid of blood, afraid of sweat, afraid of… a word. Her mother, her family, and her fans had conditioned her to flinch at her species’ name. How could she ever handle the life of a Versus fighter?

  Her life was hand-designed outfits, body mods, choreographies, and pageants. Their lives were workouts, combat suits, bruises, and adrenaline. They couldn’t be more different.

  In fact, body mods was one of the things that kept both worlds so divided. Fighters considered them disgusting, tampering with God-given perfection, and they were commonly used to gain unfair advantages over opponents. Socializers considered mods works of art, testing the body’s malleability and adaptability, and an outlet for expression.

  Calista never had much of a say in her body-modding, so she didn’t know what to say now. They were painful and exhausting to endure, but otherwise, she wouldn’t be as pretty as she was, would she? She looked enough like her mother as a child, but the mods made her resemble her more accurately. When she was younger, she used to be so excited at the prospect of becoming ‘prettier’… after her first experience, though, the excitement faded.

  “Number twelve is Miles Aikuura, a 17-year-old Voraxian at Level 14…” The list continued. All over the country, there were applicants and families reacting to each name, with either cheers or groans as they traversed the alphabet.

  At least Calista wouldn’t be the only one disappointed. Only 330 would get in, and there were thousands of applicants. It would be worse for those that really did believe they had a chance. No one had a guarantee of entering, even if they were a high Level. Hope was a painful thing.

  Someone entered the HARP bubble as the list continued halfway into the B’s. She sighed, assuming it was Katelyn. “Whatever it is, I don’t feel like it,” she said, hugging her knees against her chest.

  “You’re doing it already.” Caught off guard by the male voice, Calista looked, meeting her father’s gray eyes. She blinked in confusion. Why wasn’t he at work?

  “May I?” He motioned to the space next to her on the couch. A bit awkwardly, she nodded, and he sat. “I just wanted to keep you company,” he said.

  “You’re not at work…” Calista said doubtfully.

  “No. I’m taking a break. There’s plenty of coders out there that are ‘better’ than me. If I’m that worthless, they shouldn’t miss me.” He flattened his blond hair.

  She was even more confused now. What did he mean by that?

  For a while, they were silent. “…student number 39 is Khadijah Bryant, a 28-year-old Mercearthian at Level 26. Quite the late start to her career…”

  “You haven’t gone to the spa?” he asked.

  Calista shook her head. “I know I look ugly.”

  “No, that’s not what I… you’re not ugly, Calista. You never were.” Henry massaged his forehead. “I’m just worried. You’re thin as a stick. I was hoping it was a mod or something.”

  “Would a mod be any better?”

  “You’re not eating. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  Calista shrugged. “I’m eating enough.”

  A long, awkward silence. Calista kept watching the different students appearing between the anchors, pretending her father wasn’t there, trying to figure out what to say to the daughter he hadn’t properly spoken to in years.

  “I’m glad you did what you did,” Henry suddenly said.

  “What?” Calista turned her attention back to him, but she secretly wished he’d leave her alone.

  “I’ve never really… I never wanted this life. I wanted you kids to have your own choices. So, I’m proud that you stood up to everyone and followed your own path.”

  Calista momentarily panicked and instinctively checked the viewer tracker, but was then reminded that their eyes weren’t on them. She stared at Henry, then scoffed. “Proud of me, huh? So, you’re telling me you didn’t want me to be a Socializer this whole time?”

  “I just didn’t want you destroying yourself like your mother. I always thought it was wrong. This life… it’s awful, and none of you deserved it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you mentally stood up for us all these years. Really appreciate it.”

  An even longer pause stretched out between them for a few minutes. “…51st admitted student is a 22-year-old Mearthian, Emerson Castillo, at Level 20…”

  “Calista… I’m so sorry.”

  She scoffed again.

  “Just hear me out, okay? None of us chose this life-”

  “Us?” Calista practically laughed. “You didn’t spend your whole life changing your body, or being force-fed a buggy diet, or taking runway classes. You have no clue what I’ve been through. You’re never even here!” She nervously checked the tracker again, grunting in frustration. “I mean, look at me! I keep thinking that an uber-ton of people are watching and listening to us, because that’s been our life. That’s been my life since I was glitching born.”

  “You’re right.” Her father nodded. “You’re right, I don’t know what you went through. I watched my sisters go through it, though… and I wish I were more like your brother.”

  “You wish. But you’re not. Wishing you did something doesn’t make it happen.”

  Henry nodded again, blowing out his cheeks. “I do want to be here for you. I’m here now.”

  “Why?” Calista turned away, not wanting to continue the conversation, but her lips twitched with emotion, her finger still habitually tapping her AIDA band for the viewer tracker, the little screen opening and closing over and over again.