It was interesting, Hunter would think in hindsight, how many emotions you could feel at once. Grief, despair, apathy, and fury, all balled up in Hunter's body. He wanted to run away, back to his suite, sit on his bed and wait for this cocktail of pain to bleed away into a memory. He wished to become absorbed in his research and creation, focused only on the next channel, curve, battery test, or flash of inspiration.
His only wish was to drift along with the shifting song of desire that etherium sung to him.
As he watched David walk back to his team, Hunter felt certain that David was right. There was no way he was going to win this round. He had the AR of a toddler and the physical strength of someone half his age. He faced this challenge tired, burned out, and with a quarter of the manpower of other teams.
Hunter had already lost, and the third round had barely even begun.
But if David thought his words would be enough to make Hunter quit, he was wrong.
Hunter knew his father was innocent of the crime they accused him of, but he'd be lying if he said his father wasn't strange. Hunter had inherited his obsession towards constructs from him, after all. When his father had set his mind to something, nothing would stop him from achieving it. It was a stubborn streak that Hunter revelled in, one legacy that his father has passed onto him.
They could take his family's money, their home, their land, and all of their possessions. But they couldn't take the blood that pumped through his heart, the Koar family blood that carried the spark of his father's greatness within him. It was a spark that Hunter would stop at nothing to nurture until it took root within himself as well.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn't work, but it helped him shift his focus back to Jonathan's team.
They'd made a lot of progress while he was ruminating. Jonathan was studying the inside of the network hub. Hunter believed he'd have an advantage; he understood the construction of wireless etherium network hubs. There were a few different versions, but they were all based on his father's original design.
Hunter believed he would also be able to analyze the various constructs scattered across the room quickly. His work over the last few years had helped him refine both his eyes for detail and his ability to rapidly diagnose and solve problems.
It would still be an overwhelming amount of work to get through this round, but the more Hunter thought about it, the more he could feel his sense of confidence return.
He excelled at this. He could do this.
Jonathan's team completed the challenge in just under an hour and a half. When they activated the network hub, they all cheered and gave each other high-fives.
"Time: 1 hour, 27 minutes, and 33 seconds," the announcer said, after the judges walked through the room and assessed the team's work, "Total time left, 32.45 minutes."
"Completion score: 15."
"Judges score: 5 stars. The total score for your team this round is 247.45."
Hunter tried to deduce how they were calculating the score.
If they converted the time remaining into points, added that to the completion score, and multiplied that by the judges' score, he estimated that it would match the team's final score for the round. He assumed that the judge's score always acted as a multiplier.
Hunter had studied the team as they worked, understanding the logic of the challenge. Hunter was going to rely on his creativity more than he ever had before. The non-binary nature of the challenge comforted him. That he could earn points meant he could be strategic with how he approached it.
Jonathan's team left the hub room; they then drew a curtain across the room's open end. Attendants entered the room through the curtain, carrying a new batch of constructs and parts. Hunter realized they were different from the ones the other team had used.
Clever. That way, proceeding teams couldn't use the advantage that came from watching the other teams before them. Within a few minutes, they raised the curtain, and it was the Hunters' turn.
The announcer called him forward. Hunter steeled himself and walked up to the room, ready to work. He let the spectators and observing teams fade from his attention.
They gave him a minute to set up before the countdown started. Instead of a workbench, he had to make use of what was available.
"Are you ready? The countdown starts…now!" the announcer said.
Hunter sacrificed a few seconds to chug the rest of his coffee. It should kick in over the course of the round. He walked to the network hub and undid the front panel. He recognized the model straight away. Fourth generation, with some silly additions that seemed hard-wired — not just added for the sake of the artisan competition.
Hunter scoffed and shook his head. There was a small logo printed on the right-hand wall of the construct.
LockeMark Industries. Typical. Why improve on what was already a great product when you could make it worse? Typical corporate council corporation with their predictable, ass-backwards, nonsensical anti-logic. He wouldn't have expected anything less.
He took a minute to study the alterations the company had made and realized that he could gain points just by taking them out. This wouldn't take too long, and it wouldn't be the first time that Hunter improved a constructs performance by 'ruining' a considerable portion of it.
Tracing most unwanted channels to their origins took only a couple of minutes; he then severed them, eliminating a third of the construct's glyphs. He made a mental list of potential improvements he could make, noting the parts he would need to activate the construct as well. There were a few ways he could do it, but it would depend on what was available to him.
He spent the next 20 minutes looking through the provided parts and constructs. He separated them, and ended up with 5 which he deemed unsalvageable, 3 which he deemed salvageable, and 2 which appeared to work fine. Then he had a lightbulb moment and realized that some parts he rendered obsolete within the wireless network hub could fix not only the salvageable ones, but he might even make a new construct with the parts leftover.
The problem was what he had expected from the start of the round. It was far too much work for him. So he focused on what he thought would bring him the most points. He gambled on the distribution of completion points. He would cannibalize one of the functional constructs, using some of his synergies to transform an unsalvageable construct into something different.
Its original form was a portable oven you could bring camping, or if you were staying somewhere off-grid. Hunter had converted it into a portable refrigerator. He took out a still-useful component of the oven and installed it into the network hub.
After what felt like an hour, Hunter was feeling the pressure. His steps felt heavier. It was an effort to crouch and stand — he had poor endurance and physical strength to begin with. His previous round had drained him, and the constant cycle of activating, assessing, disassembling, testing, and reassembling the constructs took its toll. A few times he had to stop and breathe quick, deep breaths to oxygenate his body. The coffee wasn't having as much of an effect as he'd hoped.
Time felt flexible to Hunter. He had to estimate how much time had passed based on how much work he'd done, and comparing that to his initial assessment and expectations when he'd first analyzed the room.
There were two more parts he needed to install into the network hub, which he found between two more of the salvageable constructs — a vacuum cleaner and a large, boxy flashlight. Next, he repaired the flashlight after taking apart a third usable structure. He relegated the vacuum cleaner to the table he had assigned to the unsalvageable constructs.
There was another part floating around which he could install into the network hub, which would boost its output for a small decease in efficiency, which might count as creative bonus points. But Hunter couldn't be sure.
At this point, he figured he had about 45 minutes remaining. He had a plan to fix the fully functional construct which he'd gutted at the beginning, but he didn't know if he had enough time. In the end, he went with the network hub, hoping that it would bring him more points.
Each second he spent fixing the network hub felt like it stretched onwards, and he expected to hear the buzzer sound to signal that he'd run out of time. He felt relief when he attached the final battery to the network hub and activated it, signalling that he was done.
The judges approached the room and observed the mess that Hunter had made. Some of them appeared less than impressed, but Hunter didn't mind. He was just glad that he'd been able to finish the round on time.
The countdown clock was right above the room, and he couldn't see its face from where he stood.
"Cutting it quite close," he heard one say as they passed him by.
How close had he cut it?
"I must admit," another one judge said as he picked through the constructs that Hunter had modified, "I'm impressed by your capacity to think outside of the box."
Hunter smiled. Based on the judge's expression, he wasn't sure whether or not to take it as a compliment. He had taken some creative liberties. Distinguishing what was useable and what wasn't was simple. In the end, there were many more unsalvageable constructs and parts piled together than there were useable ones. And all the useable ones had become patchwork conglomerations that functioned well but would lose points for aesthetics.
Then it came time to announce the results.
"Time to completion: 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 32 seconds. Total time left: 28 seconds."
The announcer conferred with the judges.
"Completion score: 19."
"Judges score: 2 stars. For a total score of 94."
Hunter sighed. Less than half of what Jonathan's team scored — but if he was honest with himself, it was better than he'd expected.
He was tired to the bone, but there were still 3 teams left in the round. Hunter could have napped, but he asked an attendant for another coffee after leaving the stage.
The attendant seemed concerned. They left and returned a few minutes later with a paper cup, rejoining Hunter near the other teams who were observing David Nettle and his team assess the parts.
Hunter wasn't very interested in watching them. He found a seat and did his best to stay awake. Just over an hour later, the judges announced the team's score.
"Team three, your total time to completion was 1 hour, 15 minutes, and 44 seconds. Your remaining time was 44.2 minutes."
"Completion score: 12,"
"Judges score: 5 stars, for a total score of 281,"
Hunter clapped with the other teams and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He felt bitter, but that bitterness was frail before the exhaustion. In a way, he felt grateful for how tired he was. David gave Hunter a mock bow as he passed. If he was bothered by Hunter's total nonreaction, he didn't show it.
The fourth and fifth teams completed their rounds over the next 3 and a half hours. Scoring 270, and 235.92 points, respectively.
Hunter glanced at the scoreboard behind the countdown clock.
TM 3: 281
TM 4: 270
TM 1: 247.45
TM 5: 235.92
TM 2: 94
Hunter closed his eyes. He almost wished sleep would take him, and he'd wake up back in his hotel suite, relieved that this had all just been a bad dream.
But he reminded himself that the competition wasn't over yet.
"Teams! What an incredible display of talent, knowledge, and communication. Before we assess the final scores for the competition, Oberon Enterprises would like to thank you all for attending and for pushing yourself and proving the potential of the next generation. The future looks bright with all of you working so hard to improve yourselves, and the world, with your craft. We will take a brief break, and in 20 minutes we will all reconvene to announce the final results of the competition, and this year's grand prize winner!"
"20 minutes," Hunter muttered to himself. He had finished the coffee the attendant had given him long ago. He felt no more awake than he had after his round was over. But he hadn't fallen asleep yet, so it must have done something.
The teams left the stadium, and Hunter found a washroom and splashed cold water on his face.
He studied himself in the mirror. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes. He felt like he weighed about twice as much as usual. His joints and muscles felt sore. This whole competition had been a feat of endurance, like Hunter had never known. The other teams were probably feeling it too, although to a much lesser degree.
When he felt ready, he dragged himself back to the stadium and found his spot on the stage where two other teams were waiting.
"Told you," David said as Hunter walked by him.
"It's not over yet," Hunter said. He heard one of David's team mutter '94.' The rest of the team snickered amongst themselves. Birds of a feather flock together, they say.
Soon, the final two teams appeared. As the announcer took the stage and stood before the 5 teams, she spoke to the spectators, who were still filtering in. Standing before the stage was a gathering crowd of what Hunter could only guess were reporters and journalists, each carrying photo cameras and bigger cameras for what might even be a live broadcast.
"In my hand, I have the total calculated score for the top 5 team's performances during the competition, but before they're announced, I would like to thank our audience for attending, as well as all our sponsors for making this event possible. A special thanks to Oberon Enterprises' esteemed Council partners, whose continued contribution to this annual competition paves the way for a bright future for everyone," the announcer said to a polite round of applause from the assembled crowd, as well as the teams.
He noticed Jimmy in the assembled journalists, and he gave Hunter a wink and a thumbs up.
Was that encouragement? A bit late for that. But maybe it meant something else.
Trey Oberon was watching, after all. Hunter had expected him to set up a meeting after the first round. He'd kept a lookout for him, to see if he could spot him with the judges, or in the spectators, or even watching from the side.
So far, he had seen nothing. He knew the man's face — who didn't these days? The media spread it far and wide. Hunter had seen him during news broadcasts, advertisements, newspaper articles, and billboards. The life of a Council Seat was busy and widely publicized.
Hunter didn't take the lack of news personally. In fact, he was relieved. He wasn't looking forward to meeting with Trey Oberon — if there was going to be a meeting at all. But maybe Jimmy's thumbs-up meant it was coming.
Hunter tried to tell himself that no matter what, his performance during the competition would be enough to gain some attention, both positive and negative. He'd avoided being disqualified, and he knew that he'd done better than anyone else could with not just one, but two handicaps. His low AR, and his lack of a supporting team.
He would have options for his future, and that's what he'd joined this competition to ensure.
Before the first explorers manned the first out-world ships, and realized that the sky wasn't real, there were theories about singularities, way out in deep space. They called them black holes, with gravitational pulls so intense that not even light could escape. The future felt like one of those; a singularity — and the results were the event horizon.
The future was unknowable. He would have to take it as it comes.
"Now, for the event we've been waiting for," the announcer said, "to hand out the awards for this year's competition, please welcome to the stage, Mrs. Idra Verillion, head assistant for Trey Oberon."
A middle-aged woman stepped up to the stage wearing a black dress with a grey blazer. She had brown hair and warm eyes that didn't fit Hunter's view of high-level corporate executives. But she wasn't really an executive, was she? What was the job of the head assistant to a council seat?
The teams all seemed to be impressed and surprised to see her. Hunter clapped, feigning the same enthusiasm as the other teams.
"Without further ado, the results," the announcer said, and the gathering crowd quieted down.
"People considered this team the underdog this year, but they established themselves as a genuine contender after the first round, earning 7 stars from our judges. As a multiplier for the total score earned during the second and third rounds, they earned a final score of 960.4! In 5th place, Hunter Koar!"
Idra Verillion approached Hunter with a beaming smile and a blue medal, which she hung around his neck, handing him a bunch of flowers, neatly twined together. The flashing lights from the camera left afterimages in his vision, and he did his best to offer the most genuine-looking smile he could.
Try as he might, he could summon no emotion to back it up. He felt numb.
5th place wasn't what he had aimed for. Had his performance in the first two rounds really only deemed him worthy of 5th place?
But it was done. There was no disputing the score. He had to accept his fate.
"In fourth place, with a final score of 1535.53…"
He almost couldn't believe that his final score had been so far below the rest of the teams.
Hunter tuned out the surrounding noise. He never learned the names of the teams in fourth and third place. It didn't matter to him at this point.
By the time they reached the final two teams, it was between David's team and Jonathan's.
Hunter wished he could place money on the result. He'd put every meager credit he had to his name on Jonathan's team. Their performance had been outstanding.
"In second place, they scored 6 stars in the first round..."
Hunter sighed.
"... with a final score of 1827, David Nettle, Justin Gunner, Hilary Tonley, and Pepper Silva!"
Hunter nodded to himself. He wondered what the payout would have been for that bet. Although it stung to lose to David and his team, there was some relief, knowing that they didn't win the grand prize. Mrs. Verillion handed them their silver medals.
"And finally, the grand prize winner of this year's Global Youth Artisan Competition, I present the team that won first place with a final score of 1928.15, Jonathan Berrymoore, Philip Golbrune, and Tilda Burner! Congratulations on having earned 4 sponsorships to the exclusive and prestigious Barnum Academy of Excellence, as well as 100 000 credits!"
The team hugged each other, each cheering in celebration. This year, they returned with a renewed sense of competence, driven by their belief in their own potential. And they'd done it. They'd won, even though the competition had been much fiercer, and the prizes much more valuable.
"And with that, we conclude this year's event. Thank you all for coming, and a special thanks to all our contestants, who are visiting from all over the world to take part. We hope to see some of you at next year's competition, hosted by the Eastern Shield!"
The teams exited the stage. Journalists and reporters surrounded the winners looking for interviews.
Hunter wanted to leave, but before he could, Mrs. Verillion caught him by the shoulder.
"Mr. Koar, congratulations on attaining 5th place. It's an impressive result," she said. Hunter wanted to thank her and leave, but she continued.
"My boss, Mr. Trey Oberon, has expressed an interest in having a meeting with you. He's busy today, but he's scheduled a large block of time for tomorrow afternoon. Is that acceptable to you?"
So, there it was. The invitation he'd been waiting for and dreading. At least it wasn't until the next day.
"Yeah," was all Hunter had the energy to say. Mrs. Verillion smiled.
"Perfect. Someone will come to pick you up at noon. Don't worry, we know where you're staying," she said, and then considered her words as Hunter's expression shifted. "That didn't come out quite right. Joyce Collingwood informed us of where she had set up your accommodations. This is embarrassing. I can be so careless with my words!"
Hunter smiled and excused himself.
He was too tired to eat, but after he considered staying behind to wait and see if he could spot them, he decided that had no confidence in being able to stay awake for much longer. His hotel suite was calling his name.
He stumbled his way to the hotel and fell onto his bed. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.