17. Card Chaos #2
She picked it up, but my gaze remained on the ground for a moment longer. It was neither a matte or glossy black, but what looked like a thin veil that protected us from a grainy abyss of black and grey below. We were a single pixel floating in a cube in a sea of that outer substance.
“What is it?” I asked her.
She held out the card as if to show me but pointed to another that appeared to my left.
Rather than ask, I followed her prompting and saw the others in our chamber do the same as cards appeared all around the floor.
I picked up the one below me and inspected it.
Furrowing my brow, I wondered if I was correct in assuming that it was a trading card.
I thought I was familiar with the most popular trading card games, seeing that in many criminal circles they were used as currency and as valued as stocks by even some of the most elite businessmen.
It looked like one of the monster battling variety, but the frame and stats were unfamiliar.
Zhu snorted.
You know what this is?
His snort turned into a laugh. “That is me.”
I didn’t need to ask anymore as I understood the image. Below the title “Boarrior of the Journeymen,” I saw what looked like a caricature of Zhu taken to a muscular extreme.
Giant tusks extended from his jowls capped with blue orbs. His eyes burned a vibrant blue with white flames burning outward. He wore traditional silks of ancient china, though only on his torso and groin, while cybernetic armor covered his appendages. He held his giant rake ready for an attack.
I read the stats and abilities below, not understanding the health and attacks with the numbers one through four listing specific actions and terms in bold.
I looked on the back side of the card and saw no name or anything to clarify what this was.
I ran to Ralia, who was already comparing her card with fellow competitors.
She turned away from them as she spotted me, despite the silence of my footsteps.
She reached for my card and took it without asking.
I leaned over and inspected her card.
Heaven’s General Sha of the Journeymen. The image was that of a green fiend whose physique was even more rigid than Zhu.
A variety of chains and jade ornaments adorned his body with a cracked jade pendant on his chest atop white armor with glowing blue lines that appeared to be sparking out like the light in his eyes.
He clutched a giant staff with a wide blade on the bottom and a bi-pronged fork on the top with a lightning bolt between them.
I glanced at the abilities below the health status, noting the same array of abilities next to the numbers one through four.
She looked to the side, gave the other competitors an enthusiastic goodbye as she pushed me to a more secluded area of the cosmic chamber.
She whispered as she returned my card. “How do they know about our Gui?” Any remnant of frivolity had vanished from her voice. “Does this not bother you?”
“Of course it does. Do you think this had anything to do with us using our Gui?”
“Probably? I placed the best cognitive walls I could on us prior to entering, but something that can create and manipulate us like this probably doesn’t have a problem reaching into the depths of our minds.” She sighed. “Best think about it later.”
“Right. If we lose, this won’t matter.”
She scoffed. “We’re not losing this one.”
“I appreciate the confidence, but–”
“Pet, if there’s anything I’m qualified for, it’s this.”
“What do you mean?”
She flipped the card over, furrowing her brow in slight disappointment. “Where’s the logo?”
“You know this game?”
“Of course I do. It’s Luminate League.”
“That neurospace card game you were talking about?”
“The very same. I wish Boyband were here to see how not-stupid this is.”
“Is it hard to play?”
“The mechanics are pretty simple, but the strategy… it’s like chess. I mean, the game is different, but the idea is the same. You’ll have no problem as long as these people don’t have any experience, which I doubt.”
“I had only heard it mentioned like once or twice before you did. Is it really that popular?”
“In these circles? Yeah. I’m sure we’re surrounded by pros.”
“Because they’re a bunch of try-hard nerds? I mean, that kind of fits you–”
“Shut up.” She paused. “Take me, add more corporate and incel, and that’s your classic space-filler player.
The best though, are the people you would never expect.
Some teenage girl who owns a social-net cult and dominates the algorithm with persuasion based on her League victories.
Some dad working a Yellow District level job but can afford to live in the blue based on League gambling.
Indigo level CEOs who earn each other’s respect based on League proficiency.
Anyone who doesn’t look like they play, might play, but you can count on most self-proclaimed Scholars being able to hold their weight in a match. You plug?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t worry though, I’ll help you with some tricks once things get moving.”
“You’re sure you’ll be able to?”
“Not really, I just wanted to make you feel better.”
“Are you serious?”
“What? We’re being handed cards that shouldn’t exist in the game, so we can expect the rest of the deck to be made up by this system.
I’ll try my best to help out, but seeing how our Gui are actually the cards, I figure they’ll be able to help make up for what you lack in experience.
“ She inspected her card. “I’m guessing the rest of the deck will carry some kind of theme related to these ones.”
“If our decks are based on our Gui, what do you think everyone else will have?”
She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by an announcement that read a message floating in the center aloud.
“Segement three: Luminate League. While many of you may be experienced with this game, you will now compete on a new level. Those with prior experience may have an advantage over the less experienced players, but that does not eliminate the less experienced players. As with previous tests, this tests the competitor’s mind, not a single skill.
In this segment of The Standardized Test, you will compete for cognitive superiority.
While the previous tests measure one’s ability to learn and persuade, this version of Luminate League will prove who is intellectually superior beyond any measure.
The victors of this event prove their worth over their opponents.
Those who fail are not worthy of Pure Knowledge.
This is the final segment of The Standardized Test. Unlike in the previous segments, there is no guaranteed number of passing competitors.
No more than four may pass, though if the final four competitors prove unworthy it is possible that fewer will pass.
A victor-less Standardized Test is not only possible, but common. ”
I looked at Ralia, mirroring her disgusted glare.
The announcement continued. “Each player will be given a standard twelve-legend deck with a provided selection of action cards of their choosing. Players will be placed in a standard thirty-six-person bracket, though the form is subject to change following each match. Gamble decks will be randomized and filled with Test-exclusive cards. Matches will begin simultaneously and rival matches can be seen during play as all matches occur in a single stadium. You have ten minutes to prepare for the first round. Please familiarize yourself with your main card, as the rest of your deck will be created to fit this Legend card. The rest of your deck and your optional ability cards will be hidden until the tournament begins with pre-match card selection.”
Ralia shook her head. “That still doesn’t clarify why our Gui are on the cards.”
The announcement continued with eerie relevance. “You may note the creature on your card aligns with the Light Leech given to you when you applied for the Standardized Test.”
Ralia glared at me, her eyes hinting at the discomfort of not understanding.
Her perplexity deepened my anxiety. I no longer worried about how the system knew our Gui.
That was a trivial concern compared to the immediate responses to our conversations.
Perhaps the other rules and comments were a result of the other competitors’ questions, but I doubted that was the case.
Are you telling the system to clarify everything?
“No.“ Zhu replied.
Well?
My question went unanswered. Feeling our connection, I didn’t have to ask him. I knew he was just unsettled as Ralia by the system reading us.
Did you disguise yourself as a Light Leech?
“No.”
He wasn’t as unsettled there.
I spoke to Ralia. “What if the system just thought our Gui were Light Leeches? When Naoma and I met the therapist and Kalacia, I thought the Light Leeches were just their Gui.”
“Maybe, but I don’t like it either way.”
“Does Sha understand?” Zhu asked.
I repeated his question to Ralia.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Zhu doesn’t like the system knowing him, either.”
She shrugged after a brief pause. “He doesn’t seem too bothered.”
Zhu snorted. “What does he understand? What do I lack?”
I ignored his complaints and focused on Ralia. “It doesn’t matter right now. If we pass the Test, I’ll ask Dokkaebi or whomever is on the other end of this.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Of course it does, but I’m more bothered by not understanding how to play this zegging game.”
“Right, right. Sorry, I’m just a little… I—“
“Frustrated because something is outsmarting you?”
She shook her head, but I knew I was hitting close to the mark. Perhaps her pride was costly, but I was going to do my best to make use of it.
“Teach me how to win.”