Ten Sigma by A. W. Wang

Author:A. W. Wang [Wang, A. W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950519002
Published: 2019-04-03T22:00:00+00:00

Thirty-One

After the others vanish, Haiku is my only companion in the deserted museum. While the little avatar looks satisfied, I’m haunted by the final expressions of my only friends in this universe.

I ask, “Did you go with them too?”

“No, there’s only one of me, and I preferred to remain with you.”

“That’s so touching.”

Not noticing the sarcasm laced in my reply, she says, “You took the wise course of action by breaking up the team.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, the others were holding you back. It was a prudent decision to get rid of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

My hands curl into fists as she responds. “The emotional bonds you created with your teammates are stifling the progress of your acclimation. This program isn’t designed to produce great teams, the success of your group notwithstanding. The goal of this program is to identify exceptional people. Your friends are irrelevant to your individual accomplishment.”

“Then why have the team?”

“To make you immune to losing people you are close to,” she says with complete innocence.

My fist rises, and I punch her square in the nose.

Her silver outfit shimmers as she passes under a light and flies into the far wall. Like a balloon, she rebounds unharmed.

Furious with the results, I surrender to my rage and leap after her, sending blows into her body while screaming, “They were my friends. Not a set of statistics. And I wanted to save them.”

After each attack, she remains unscathed, impervious to any force I can deliver.

As my frustrations mount, I channel more fury into ever wilder swings and kicks. One hand breaks when I miss the bounding avatar and shatter the armless Greek goddess. The toes on my left foot plow under her and snap, fracturing a wall. Knocking the supplicating king to the tiles with a mistimed punch, I destroy three fingers from my other hand. My ankle twists after I kick a pedestal, toppling a huge marble warrior. His shield shatters into jagged pieces over the floor. Ignoring the injuries to my annoyingly perfect body, I hobble after the waif, a one-woman machine, demolishing artwork and furniture from my formerly favorite place with reckless abandon.

Haiku absorbs the punishment with a patient gaze.

After the pain from the broken bones in my swollen hands and feet becomes too great to endure, I stop, pressing my elbows into my thighs to hold myself upright.

From the middle of the marble and red-bricked destruction, the disembodied head of the statue king stares with stoic disapproval.

Still raging, I glare at Haiku.

The silence lengthens, interrupted by only my labored breaths and angry sniffles.

When it’s clear my tirade is finished, Haiku snaps her fingers and my wounds heal. The surrounding corridor and statues return to their prior state, erasing the entirety of my tantrum.

I straighten and step toward her, never wavering in my hatred of the little avatar and the virtual overlords.

Haiku calmly says, “If it helps you to get over your anger, you may continue to assault me.”

Realizing the whole effort has been a futile disaster, I shriek and sink to the brick floor.

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