I hop off my ride and walk into the complex to join the masses. At least it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. People gather around rides and shops, their attention focused away from me. I slip through the throngs without a trace.
Lines of people are gathered near the entrance, waiting to check into the stadium. The gold line veers sharply around them. I follow it until I’ve passed the main entrance gates, bustling with fans. Before long, the back gates come into view, heavily barricaded and swarming with guards. Rows of black cars wait in anticipation of the match’s end. Even though tonight’s game is just between the Phoenix Riders and the Andromedans, all the other teams are here to watch. Crowds of fans linger at the edges of the barricades, hoping to be one of the first to peek at the teams when they leave.
“Here,” I murmur to Hammie in a message.
“I see you,” she replies. “When I say go, climb over the left barricade closest to the gate.” Then she goes dark.
A few minutes later, a riotous commotion suddenly starts at the barricades closest to the back gate. Asher appears, with Hammie and Roshan flanking him on each side, their professional grins on and their hands waving in the air. Behind them come Jackie Nguyen and Brennar Lyons, the replacements for Ren and me. Hammie’s already dressed in Phoenix Rider scarlet, the outfit hugging her curves, and her familiar little smirk is prominent on her face. Asher’s sitting in a new black-and-gold designer wheelchair, and Roshan looks sleek with his head of dark curls carefully combed and his outfit spotless.
The fans burst into shouts and screams; a wave of flashing lights engulfs the team. People rush the barriers closest to them, forcing all the security to hurry to contain them.
I smile at their surprise appearance. Perfect. Over the crowds, Hammie sends me a quick message. “Go.”
As security struggles with the concentration of fans on one side, I swing myself quietly over the other and dart in toward the gate. A few others try to follow me—which is when Hammie raises the alarm, pointing exaggeratedly at the few fans now trying to come over the barrier. A couple of guards rush to intercept them, and I disappear into the dark recesses of the entryway.
All I can see here are the dim blue outlines of silhouettes. The corridor brings a wave of nostalgia, and I think back to being led out into the arena by a team of bodyguards, my heart pounding in anticipation of the Wardraft. That wasn’t so long ago, but it feels like an eternity.
“Ash,” I message him as I make my way down the familiar halls. “Can you make sure the security cams in the Phoenix Riders’ waiting room are off?” Before every game, the Riders wait in an elegant suite overlooking the expansive arena.
“Already done. Careful of the hall leading to our room, though. They installed some new cams there, and we couldn’t gain access to any outside our suite.”
I shrink further underneath my hoodie. “Got it.”
“Meet us afterward.” He sends me an address. “We’ll talk then.”
Finally, I reach the Riders’ empty waiting room and slide the door shut behind me. The silence in here is punctuated by the muffled noise coming from down below, where fifty thousand fans are cheering as the latest track from BTS thunders from the speakers. I stand before the window, feeling for a second like I’ve gone back in time to when I was still a player. The stadium is completely packed, with more people streaming in to their seats with each passing second. An announcer is recapping the original Final game as footage plays in the enormous 3-D holograms.
A glowing light is already flashing over the suite’s door, calling for the players to head down to the center of the arena. Analysts sitting in the top rows broadcast their debates, predicting which team has the best chance of winning.
My attention turns to the private glass box on the other side of the arena. In there, I can see several figures moving around that I identify as Hideo, Mari, and Kenn.
On the ground level, the first members of Team Andromeda have started emerging into the center of the arena. The crowd’s screams rise a deafening octave.
“Good luck,” I murmur to my team as they start appearing, too. My gaze lingers awhile longer on their sleek outfits. Even after everything, the energy in this space fills every inch of me, and I want nothing more than to be down there with them, soaking in the world’s applause and wondering what new, fantastical realm I’d be dropped into next. I want to be excited again with my whole heart, before everything became so complicated.
I shake my head, take a seat, and pull up a grid of the entire dome’s security cams.
There’s more surveillance in this dome than I’ve seen anywhere else—at least two or three cams in each room. It seems they’ve added layers of security since the breach that nearly killed Hideo. When Jax nearly killed Hideo, I remind myself as a shiver runs through me.
The announcer finishes introducing each of the players. The lights in the stadium dim, leaving only the teams illuminated, and in the center of the arena, a hologram appears to show the world that everyone will be immersed in. It’s somewhere high in the sky, shrouded by clouds in every direction, and piercing through the cloudbank are hundreds of narrow mountain peaks with towers on top, each connected to the others around it with narrow rope bridges.
“Welcome to the Sky Kingdom,” a familiar, omniscient voice rings out across the stadium. The audience lets out a deafening roar of approval.
I look away from the arena and scroll quietly through the various security cams until I reach the ones that are inside Hideo’s private box. The shields on the cams are tight, and I can already tell I won’t be able to alter any of their footage. If security notices me in here and realizes that I’m not one of the Phoenix Riders, they’re going to start asking questions.
But nothing’s stopping me from zooming in on the surveillance cams in Hideo’s box, to follow the feeds that the security guard manning the cameras can see. I find his profile, then make my way in.
Footage from every security cam in the dome fills the space around me. I rotate through them until I find the ones in Hideo’s box, and then zoom in on the most central one.
Suddenly, it’s as if I’m hovering on their ceiling, watching them like a ghost.
And I find myself listening in on a conversation that makes me recoil in horror.
11
Kenn’s arms are crossed tightly, and he has a frown on his face as he addresses Hideo. “But there’s no proof of that,” he argues.
Mari lets out an exasperated sigh. “Kenn, we’re not here to rush out a subpar product.” Her Japanese translates rapidly into English in my view. “We need to check if this is caused by the algorithm.”
I suck in my breath sharply. So Hideo hadn’t kept it all to himself; Mari and Kenn are aware of the algorithm. Not only that—they sound like they were actively involved in putting it into effect.
But what is Mari talking about? What does she think the algorithm is doing?
“Suicides can be caused by anything,” Kenn says with a wave of his hand. “Have you become just like those stuck-up legislators? They think they can prevent progress by banning new technology in their cities—”
“They’re not always wrong to do it,” Mari replies. “This is serious. If this is our mistake, we need to fix it immediately.”
Suicides? I think of the police tape fencing off that block in Kabukichō. They must be talking about the criminals who have been killing themselves around the world. The ones Hideo mentioned in our last argument. Convicted sex traffickers committing suicide, he’d said. But that had sounded like something the algorithm was always supposed to allow.
“Just wait a few months,” Kenn says. “Everything will smooth out.”
My gaze goes to Hideo, who hasn’t said a word yet. He looks composed as he leans back in his seat and regards each of his colleagues. A closer look at his face, though, tells me he’s in a dark mood.