She finally gave up on trying to block her father. “You used to be here. You spent time with us. You made me feel better whenever Mom made me feel like a worthless bug. Now, you just go to work and stay there overtime, leaving me here with her. Katelyn was working overtime at the—” she caught herself— “museum so she could work on escaping this… all of this!” She closed her AIDA band again. “Quinlan’s nine years old and he’s grown up so fast, too fast, and all he’s ever known is micro-cameras in his face. You say you cared, you say you didn’t want this for us, so why didn’t you say anything?! You have a say in how your kids are raised.” She turned away. She had a lot more to say, but she was too upset and tired to put it into coherent words, so she left it at that.

  The list reached the 60th student. The anchors would briefly analyze each applicant, basing their opinions and predictions on their stats and performance in the pressure exams. Maybe it was good that Calista failed so spectacularly. Even if she did succeed, these two would remind her of what she did wrong— just like her mother did every single day.

  “You know your mother and I didn’t want to get married?” her father said.

  “No kidding,” Calista said sarcastically. She never saw her parents happy together, not genuinely. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was seeing someone else.

  “My mom set me up with her. We got introduced… sort of the same way she tried introducing that Arfimez kid to you. Iva and Braxli, and the rest of her channel girls all lined up and cheered for us being together. The viewer tracker back then was a bit more intimidating— there was a generated face that would change its expression depending if you were bugging up or not.”

  The families were never good at setting their kids up, it seemed. They always chose people that had nothing in common with each other. Calista wondered if they were intentionally doing so just to make their lives harder. Her grandparents didn’t like each other. Her great-grandparents hated each other, and they’d reached the age of ‘not caring anymore’, airing their drama to everyone watching. As the generations got older, the fans would focus more on their descendants, so they’d finally have freedom to truly express themselves.

  By Calista’s calculations, she’d have her freedom in about fifty years. That wasn’t too long, was it?

  “Anyways… we tried to have a good marriage,” her father continued. “I wanted to understand her, to know her, to… love her. But all I ever got was that persona your grandmother programmed into her. I could tell it wasn’t what she really wanted or felt. She just couldn’t show her true self to me because she wasn’t used to it.”

  Of course, her mother’s life was so hard. The poor thing suffered so much that she imposed all of it on her own daughter.

  “The only time she was real was when she…” He stopped.

  “When she what?” Calista asked uncaringly.

  “When we had you.”

  That caught her attention. She looked at her father, confused.

  “I’d never seen her so happy.”

  Calista’s mouth flapped, speechless.

  “I finally started to get to know Jenny.” Her father’s gray eyes stared ahead distantly, swimming with joyful memories. “She started eating all this stuff she never touched before. She started singing, which was incredible. It was off-key, but…” He laughed. “She turned off all the micro-cameras and spent time with me. She didn’t even care when her mom nagged her. For the first time, I started falling in love with her.”

  Calista almost shook her head. She couldn’t believe a word of what she was hearing. Her UI popped up with:

  +10 Rel-P

  “I guess a few years after you were born, people’s criticisms got to her. You know how pressuring they are with new heirs,” her father continued. “Maybe she thought that if you ‘proved yourself’ to the fans, she could protect you. She could make sure they’d never hate you for anything. I thought so, too. I guess that’s why I never said anything… but that was the coward’s way out.”

  Fat lot of good that did. If the fans didn’t hurt her, the family would. Calista’s life was nothing but pain.

  “I’m not excusing her for the kind of mother she’s been to you. I’m not,” he emphasized. “I’m just letting you know that she was the same as you, Calista. She never got the chance to explore who she really was. She was raised to be Jennifer Zyben, two-time Miss Milky Way.” He said the title with heavy sarcasm.

  Calista remained silent. She had no words for this bombshell. She looked down at her hands, then her body— an exact copy of her mother. Birthing pods could be edited at any time through development so babies wouldn’t have any physical flaws. There were even updates underway to prevent any flaws whatsoever, erasing any chance of rebellion… like Calista’s.

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  She was born perfect, and yet, it was never good enough. The mods would go on and on. Every Socializer’s life was fix after fix. New versions of themselves would be released every few days. They’d look ridiculous, with their hair colors, eye colors, uber-thin waists, and dyed skin. Their fanbases would decide what perfection was based on what they felt like seeing from their idols every other day.

  Calista never understood it. Why couldn’t they just remain the way they were? How come fighters were admired exactly the way they were born, but not her kind?

  “Can I tell you a secret?” her father said.

  “Honestly… I don’t even know.”

  “About the viewer tracker.”

  She checked the tracker again, then sighed and closed it. “What about it?” she asked, irritated.

  “There weren’t as many people watching us as you thought,” he said slowly. “Jennifer inflated it to keep you on your toes.”

  “Oh, great. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “Wait, let me finish. A lot of them— more than you think— didn’t like the way your mother was treating you. They’d point out about the body-modding, and the runway classes… everything. At first, your mother used to let their reactions come through, but your grandma started bugging about it, so she censored them. So, the fans that she counted as valid would send reactions through the tracker, and the ones that were taking your side were blanked.”

  “So, she valued the opinions of the ones that hated me.”

  Her father paused briefly. “Yeah. Pretty much. I just wanted you to know that there’s a lot of people that don’t hate you, Cali. There are a lot of Socializers out there that think like you. They’re just… not listened to.”

  If they were out there, then where were they now? Why didn’t she hear them at all? Why didn’t they do something to help her instead of just talking about it?

  The Socializers she knew always followed through with what they’d threaten to do. If they wanted to ruin an idol’s life, they would. Where were those people that would’ve defended her? Why didn’t any of them stand up to Calista’s family? Why did she only hear from the ones that had a new idea for her body or her personality every day?

  “I’ll… leave you alone now. I just wanted you to know.” Her father moved to leave.

  “You can stay,” Calista said, then frowned at herself. Did she really say that?

  “Are… you sure?”

  “Yeah.” It was as if someone else were speaking through her. “Stay and watch. Like old times.”

  +10 Rel-P

  Henry silently sat back down, watching the next admitted student appear before them. Neither of them spoke anymore. “Fajda Dritt is the 79th new student, a 16-year-old Mercurian going in at Level 10…”

  Name after name passed, followed with quick assessments of their performances in their pressure exams. Calista routinely checked the tracker, opening the blank screen, then closing it after only half a second. She hated this paranoia. She hated the constant anxiety.

  “…student number 147 is Abraham Jennix, a 20-year-old Mearthian at Level 15— bit of a slow start with his age and…”

  “You know, I miss watching stuff like this with you. You were such a fanatic. You even watched some of the regionals,” her father remarked.

  She shrugged. “I was a hopeful kid.”

  “Number 164 is Diego Lakh, a 20-year-old Mearthian at Level 19, so not a bad start…”

  “A lot of Mearthians,” her father observed.

  “A lot of mixed species applied,” said Calista.

  “That’s good, though. More Earthians, more halfs. I remember a time when almost all of them would be from the top planets. You’d think our own planet would have more faith in us.”

  Her heart leapt when the M’s started, but she pushed down her hope. She was not on the list. She knew she wouldn’t make it with her humiliating match against Lílitha Houdge.

  “Number 174, a 15-year-old Martian, Darrin Mayflower, starting at Level 20. He was in the Junior Versus competition, finishing at…”

  She was the same as any other amateur who thought they had a chance. Crying, bleeding, fainting… did she seriously faint in front of all those people?

  “Number 175, Calista Medley, a 17-year-old human girl at Level 2…”

  Calista almost fell out of her seat, but was stopped by her dad’s arm shooting out and gripping her arm in shock. Calista’s freeze scan appeared before them, like a copy of her, smiling and posing fashionably in the issued orange combat suit.

  “Nothing really caught much of my attention about this one,” Xavier said. “She’s one of the people on the lower end of the list, kind of just scraped through, but I suppose she shows promise if she got into the school. What do you think, Yvonne?”

  “She actually fainted at the end of her match with Piranha, Xavier,” said Yvonne. “Her nose was bleeding and she couldn’t stand the sight of it.”

  Xavier chuckled. “That’ll do it. Well, in that case, we wish a lot of luck to Miss Medley this year, and a lucky congratulations to her for making the cut, especially with such a slow start. Climbing up from Level 2 will be a challenge. Next up, number 175…”

  “Cali… you’re…” Henry stared at her with wide eyes and a slowly-growing smile.

  +20 Rel-P

  Approaching Friendly Acquaintance Status

  “I-I…” Calista’s mind was still processing the news. She opened her AIDA band on her wrist, checking for messages. Sure enough, there was one pending from Fistborn, sent the very second they announced Calista’s name on the HARP.

  Opening the message, a projection of the admissions board members appeared before them. The HARP dimmed its own projections, letting the rest of the List play out in the background.

  “Miss Medley, we’d like to extend our congratulations,” President Chrisman said. “Seeing as you have completed all the requirements expected of a new student, you have officially been accepted to the Versus Fighting School of Fistborn Academy. Please arrive at TelePort 3 to Washington D.C. on September 5th at 9:00 AM. We are thrilled to have you join our institution.” Contrary to her words, Chrisman’s face was devoid of emotion and her voice was empty and bored. It didn’t diminish the importance of the message for Calista.

  +20 XP

  Achievement Unlocked: Fighting School Admission

  She was free. For the first time in her nearly-eighteen years of life, she had a chance to have her own life, to provide her siblings with their own lives.

  Which meant she couldn’t ruin this chance.