DAY 188, 7:48 A.M.

Aboard Genesis 11

Vandemeer waits in the living room. For a few weeks after Kaya’s death, he and I were lost to each other. He neglected his duties and I neglected mine. We seemed to snap out of it together. His allegiance to Babel became secondary to me. For Kaya, we fight together.

I’m pretty sure that Vandemeer thinks if he can get me to Eden, he’ll be able to forgive his failure in protecting her. I don’t want to tell him it won’t work. It never works that way. Guilt like this doesn’t leave. You can set it aside, but it’s always there, waiting.

After warm-ups, I walk over to Kaya’s door and bow my head. I don’t know Jesus or God all that well, but I imagine we’re closer to them up here in space. Maybe they can hear me, even if we’re not on speaking terms. I say the same words every day.

Vandemeer eyes me afterward. “What do you pray for?”

“Rest.”

“Who do you pray to?”

“I don’t know.”

Breakfast comes and goes. We all treat each other like friends until we’re forced to be enemies. Going back and forth is more tiring than just hating each other. Sometimes I think Longwei has it right. He doesn’t waste time on friendships. Maybe that’s why he’s so good. All his energy goes into treating us like enemies. Maybe it’s easier that way.

But Kaya’s death changed me, changed everything. I can’t go back to cold competition and ruthless winning. I don’t want to go back to that. Kaya made us laugh and smile. She offered help to anyone who asked for it, even those who were afraid to ask. For her, I try to be better. Bilal keeps offering to talk about it, but I can’t share my shame with him.

The grueling months have transformed every competition. New strategies, new trends, new ways to get hurt. Most of the rooms carry Kaya’s legacy with them. She had a brain that broke each challenge down into compartments and solved them like simple puzzles. Watching the others copy her tactics after all this time makes the hole in my heart a little bigger, a little deeper.

Following routine, we make our way down to the pit. At this point, everyone’s deadly. Practice makes perfect, and Babel has made us all effective killers. The only question is why.

Babel’s other edict has changed things too. The girls are immune now, guaranteed spots. Vandemeer has been hung up on it for months. He doesn’t think the new ruling’s ethical. He spent weeks combing through my contracts to try to get the ruling overturned. But there are so many hidden twists gridlocked in Babel’s clauses that he eventually gave up. I don’t bother worrying about why Babel pushed the girls through, or whether or not it was fair.

None of that matters. Babel spoke. And when Babel speaks, the rules are set in stone. All I can do is try to win in spite of them. It’s not easy. Isadora no longer has to fight for herself. Instead, she fights for Roathy. Against the other girls she slacks off. But against us she fights tooth and nail for each point. The two of them keep to themselves most days now.

Overhead, Kaya’s avatar flickers briefly onto the screen. It takes eight seconds for the forfeit to register and the points to add into Azima’s score. Eight seconds is long enough to take me back to that bright room full of dark things. I shake the vision out of my head as Kaya’s avatar is replaced. I hate that my image of her has slowly shifted to this digital, Babel-made projection. She was more than that, more than they could ever capture with pixels and lights.

Next up, Longwei and Bilal.

For a few weeks, Longwei tried to carve a new rival out of Bilal. He wanted to go to war with my friend over Azima’s affections. But there’s only so much hate you can build up against someone who won’t hate you back. Any chance of solidifying a rivalry was ended by Azima’s new belief that the Adamites could be the most eligible bachelors down on Eden. It took a few days to help Bilal get over his heartbreak at hearing that pronouncement.

Our first- and third-place contestants salute at center. Defoe gives the signal and Bilal presses, only to have Longwei melt into the backdrop. Our eyes follow the action as Longwei trampolines up to the second level and darts out of sight. From our vantage point, we can still see the top of his head bobbing along the outer rim. Then Longwei trampolines up to the third level. Ducking low, he circles back along the square, padded ridge. Bilal’s making his cautious way along the second tier, checking all the nooks and crannies that people normally hide in. He’s taller than Longwei, more visible. We all watch as their paths near a point of intersection.

And then Longwei leaps.

His front tuft of hair flops up, and his eyes look wild as he takes flight. Bilal’s hatchets go up, but not quickly enough. The impact jars both weapons from his hands, and he goes stumbling toward the edge of the second tier. Before he can recover, Longwei plants a kick into his lower back and Bilal flies. We all gasp as he goes over the edge. The angle’s all wrong as he juts out a leg just before impact. My stomach pinwheels when the bone snaps clean in two. Bilal collapses in a blooming red puddle. We all stare at the very, very white bone that’s slit upward through his black suit. The sight is enough to turn us all inside out.

I run forward. The pain registers on Bilal’s face, and high-pitched shrieks tear from his lungs. I can hear the attendants just behind me. Before I can get to him, Longwei hops down. Instead of helping, though, he brings the nyxia-blunted sword down on Bilal’s neck. Overhead, Bilal’s avatar loses its head. The real Bilal is screaming with pain, and Longwei begins to walk away. Rage turns everything red. I veer away from Bilal, knowing the attendants are there, knowing they can do more for him than I can. Longwei doesn’t realize I’m coming. A second later, I lower both shoulders and blindside him. The collision shakes me from jaw to hip. We go rolling and I end up on top of him.

“You bastard.”

He tries to squirm, but I’m bigger than he is. I pin his arms back with my knees and rip the nyxian mask from his face. It clatters away and I land a downward jab. His head snaps against the floor. He’s spouting Mandarin as his nose bloodies. I ignore him, sweeping his hand aside and punching down again. Twice more and his eyes daze.

I’m shouting at him still, screaming every curse I know, when Vandemeer pulls me off. I manage to land a kick against Longwei’s ribs before Vandemeer can push me away and walk me out of the pit. I don’t look at the others, but I can feel their stares as I’m escorted out of the room.