I had no idea why, until I asked Fourteen, “What do they call this game?”
“It is called Wippen,” he said.
Wippen! I did know this game! Wippen was a game they played on the territory of Eelong. The catlike klee would ride on zenzens, which I know you remember were horses with extra leg joints that made them tall and gangly. On foot were the poor gars, the humans, who often didn’t survive a game. This was the exact same game that was played on Eelong, right down to the name! But how could that be?
“What do you know about Wippen?” I asked Fourteen. “I mean, is it a traditional game played on Quillan?”
“I do not know,” he answered. “You would have to ask LaBerge. He designs the games.”
The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense that it could be a total coincidence. Maybe it’s possible that two games could be developed on two different territories that were exactly alike, but to both be called “Wippen”? That was too much. Yet another confusing twist had been thrown into the soup.
“I don’t want to watch,” I said to Fourteen, and climbed down the platform.
As we jogged back toward the castle, an idea came to me. “Hey, does this mean there will be a party tonight?” I asked.
“Yes,” Fourteen said. “Would you like to attend?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
This was going to be my first real chance to interact with the other challengers, other than trying to keep them from killing me in a game, that is. I didn’t want to miss it. I ran back to my room, took a shower, and got dressed in a clean Challenger Red uniform. Fourteen brought me a delicious dinner of grilled meat, vegetables, and a tasty, buttery pile of fluff that reminded me of mashed potatoes but, I was told, was mashed tribbun. Who knew I would develop a taste for such an odd fruit? Or vegetable. Or potato? Whatever.
After eating, I lay down and closed my eyes to rest up and think about what to say to the challengers. I needed information about Quillan. It was the only way to piece together what Saint Dane’s plan might be for the territory, because Nevva Winter wasn’t helping much… or at all. I was beginning to worry that something had happened to her. I didn’t know what her life was like here on Quillan, other than that she was some kind of lowly assistant to the trustees. Whoever they were. Veego and LaBerge answered to them, so they must have been a powerful bunch. I decided that I’d wait for her until the time came that I had to enter another match. No way I was going to die for the amusement of these losers. If I had to play again, I’d use the blocking diode that Nevva had given me and beat feet out of there.
As usual, all this thinking meant I didn’t get much rest before Fourteen came for me. Oh well. As we walked down the corridor toward the party room, I found myself getting butterflies. I felt a little bit like I was going to my first middle-school dance. Only I wasn’t nervous about asking somebody to dance with me, I was more concerned about being accepted enough to start learning more about how Quillan worked.
By the time we arrived, the party was already jamming. It was even bigger and rowdier than the party I saw before. Fourteen must have sensed my surprise.
“Nobody died today,” he told me. “That makes for a more festive event.”
“Thanks, dude,” I said. “Don’t wait up.”
With that, I stepped into the action. I wasn’t sure how people would react to me, since I was pretty much a stranger. Turned out, I didn’t have to worry. No sooner did I set foot in that room than I was greeted like a long-lost friend.
“Hey! How are you!” “Red!” “Good to see you!” “Whooo!”
It was like going to a party at Courtney’s house. Guys were clapping me on the back, girls were hugging me, big smiles were all around. I was handed a silver goblet of that green drink that everybody liked so much. It tasted like warm Gatorade, but what the heck? I liked Gatorade. The same band of Fourteen clones was in the corner playing an upbeat tune. A girl pulled me onto the dance floor, and I was instantly in the middle of a mosh of jumping and bumping. At first I was a little thrown. I really hadn’t planned on partying, but it was hard to resist. Soon I was dancing for the first time since that Winter Solstice dance back at Stony Brook Junior High. The only difference was that I didn’t know any of the tunes. But it didn’t matter. It may have been a bizarre situation, but it was fun.
I wasn’t the only one given a big welcome either.
Everybody got the same reaction when they showed up. It was like a dam that was holding back all this pent-up emotion had been thrown wide open. In between parties everybody pretended not to know anybody else. But there, we were all best buds. I went with it. Why not? I deserved a little break too. The music was odd, but fun, and I liked to dance. At one point a full-on wet-down fight broke out where everybody threw the green drinks at everybody else. I got soaked and sticky, but didn’t care. I had no idea who any of these people were, but in some strange way we were all connected. I tried not to think about how I might be dancing with somebody who I would be asked to fight to the death the next day. It made me understand why they normally avoided one another.
As great as it was, I had to force myself to remember that I wasn’t there to have fun. I was on business. I wanted to find out more about these guys and the games of Quillan. I hoped to find out who the mysterious Mr. Pop was, and how he fit into the program. I needed to know everything. I approached a couple of challengers, said hi, and got the same big “Hey! How are you doing!” greeting. I was just as friendly back. But when I tried to get them to talk about themselves, or how they ended up getting captured to be challengers, I always got the same reaction. They gave me a sharp look and said, “Uh-uh.” Some didn’t even say that much. They just frowned, shook their heads, and moved on. Bottom line? Nobody wanted to talk about anything that was even close to serious.
Once I saw this, the party took on a creepy feeling. I realized that all of the happy greetings and friendly gestures had no basis in anything. Nobody truly knew anybody else there. All they knew was that they were all challengers, faced with the same troubles. I walked around the room and tried to eavesdrop on conversations. I quickly realized that it was all incredibly shallow. Nobody was saying anything that meant anything. It was an outpouring of positive emotion, but with nothing behind it. That’s how they were able to welcome me like some long-lost friend. Nobody really knew anybody, but they all went through the motions as if they did. They were all kidding themselves into believing they were among friends. But they weren’t. Just the opposite. They may have all been in the same boat, but it was a boat loaded with potential enemies. In order to have fun, they all had to pretend like they cared. That’s why they didn’t want to talk. If someone said something real, it would break the illusion.
It made me feel incredibly sad. What looked like a celebration was really a desperate attempt to pretend that all was well. I looked around at a sea of broad smiles and wild, laughing eyes. It could have been a scene from a blowout party on Second Earth. It wasn’t. It was a funeral. I wanted to be out of there. I backed away and turned for the door, only to come face-to-face with someone I had almost forgotten about.
Challenger Green had arrived. The guy stood there, holding a green drink, staring at me. He didn’t have the same wild party look on. He was more in control than that. He was big, too. Bigger than he looked on that screen during the Tato match. The guy stared at me with a knowing smile. It wasn’t a broad, false party smile like everyone else wore either. He was like a hungry cat who had stumbled upon a timid mouse. This was the guy who killed a Traveler. I know, it was part of the games. Still, he had killed a Traveler. I wasn’t about to put on a show, smile, and clap him on the back with a jovial, “Hey! How’s it going!” All I did was stand there, and stare back at him.