familiar with the scoring system.” She motioned to the Scores visible on their forearms. “But what you probably aren’t familiar with is that we do things quite differently from Meritropolis and other walled cities.” She now leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in the light of the pulsing fire. “We don’t put Low Scores out of the gates, their lives wasted. We allow Low Scores that are unable to contribute to Society with their lives, to do so with their deaths.”
“We feed them to the beasts!” Jameson burst in, unable to control himself.
Marta frowned, annoyed at the interruption during the climax of her story. “Well, in a way, yes, he’s right: we feed them to the animal combinations in our amphitheater. We are modeled after the Roman Colosseum, you know; that is where we get our name from—but its much more noble than that. We allow these Low Scores to exhibit bravery in death as they bring revenue to Meritorium. People come from miles around quite willing to pay to enter the Titan Amphitheater.”
“So, you trap wild animal combos for use in this Amphitheater?” Sandy asked slowly, her brow knitting.
“That’s right,” Marta replied. “There are many other hunters like us; we are one of the smaller outfits. But, believe it or not, it’s actually quite safe from animal combos near Meritorium now; we’ve hunted them into scarcity, that’s why we’re forced to travel further and further away from the city, like we are now, to find good hunting.”
“But we have to hurry, don’t we, Mom?” Jameson interjected. “The next Venatio is in just one week.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Turning from Jameson to the others, Marta explained. “The Venatio is a gladiatorial event that draws visitors— paying visitors , I might add—to Meritorium from all around. This is actually great timing for you, to be showing up to Meritorium so close to a Venatio. It means that as long as you can pay for entrance, then as visitors your Low Scores won’t have to worry about the System.” She stopped, gave them a calculating look, and asked, “You can pay, can’t you?”
Charley looked toward Grigor, unsure of what to say. Grigor remained impassive, his big, brooding face set as if chiseled in granite.
Marta continued hurriedly. “Well, that’s no matter. If you can hunt half as well as you look like you can, then the animal combos we bag over the next couple of days will earn us more than enough to purchase access for your company.” She hesitated, her eyes roving to Charley, and then back to Grigor. “That is, if we still have an agreement to work together …”
At this, Grigor turned, the shrug of his enormous shoulders rising and dipping in Charley’s direction.
Charley couldn’t tell if everyone was looking to him because they actually thought him capable of making a decision as leader—or if they just didn’t want make the decision themselves.
He sighed, looking around at the remains of their dinner feast. “I guess we don’t really have a choice, do we?”
Grigor turned back to Marta. “An agreement is an agreement.”
Marta’s face brightened, and she relaxed visibly. “Great! We head out first thing in the morning.”
Charley turned from Marta and gazed into the flickering flames. The campfire hissed and crackled as a log rolled from its precarious perch and into the bright red-orange coals, sending smoky wisps ghosting up into the starry night sky above, gone from sight forever. Maybe life was like the fire, he thought; you take action while you can; you try to do the right thing, even if you aren’t really sure what the right thing is. Your actions flame bright, but then your time is gone, and you just slip away, gone from sight forever.
Wistfully, Charley hoped that he might be remembered for at least trying to do the right thing.
He thought ahead to Meritorium, where Low Scores were given a death sentence, just like his brother Alec had been in Meritropolis. But even
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