A Visitor to the Future - 95 - The Tournament Begins!

I stood by the window and looked down as the drone-craft sailed over the ocean. Looking down at the expanse of blue passing by below had become soothing as of late. I would occasionally try to pick out individual waves, only to be unable to track them. It reminded me of being a child in a car and trying to watch the road markings fly by below the window.

I looked around the drone-craft at the team, chatting excitedly between themselves. We'd adopted a team styling which was mostly a dark green - but every member of the team had a secondary colour that was unique to them. I'd claimed green and dark blue. Most of us were wearing a pilot-like jumpsuit, but there were a few who varied significantly - Alexandra was wearing a smart light grey suit, though her shirt and cufflinks matched the dark green of the team. Gatecrash was wearing a white-and red tie-dyed bandana around their neck, and I could see the hint of a shirt and tie under Tungsten's jumpsuit. Anode had modified her jumpsuit significantly into a just a pair of trousers and an overlarge belt - when I thought about it, I'd never seen her wear a shirt or torso covering of any kind.

In the back of the craft were Malati and Regolith, who were coming to spectate the tournament. Malati had made a banner of sorts in our team colour which was folded up behind her. Blaise had teased Regolith for wanting to watch after his intial expression of disinterest in the tournament, but it was all in good fun.

In-between the chattering, I could see the signs of last minute preparation. Antonia was surrounded by projections on negotiation theory as Sarkona and Alexandra pointed out things from over her shoulder. The three ambassadors seemed to be working well together in general. Anode, Sasha, and Blaise were talking about some technical configuration of parts or another - I could tell by the way the engineers sketched things in the air with their hands. Finally, Gatecrash and Tungsten seemed to be gently sparring with their upper arms, Gatecrash correcting Tungsten's posture slightly. I'd seen Gatecrash demonstrate one of those moves on a mu ren zhuang before - or as I'd called it, a training dummy. I had completely failed to replicate it.

People slowly began to gather around me as we neared our destination, which was on an area of reclaimed land off the coast of Brazil.

The island was an oceanic plateau, surrounded by rocky cliffs that gave no indication of the fact it was artificial. There was a crevice that I could see small boats moving into, for all those who fancied not arriving by air. The edge of the cliff was covered with a dense mass of trees, but they stopped as quickly as they started. Beyond them were a series of various-sized stadiums - there must have been at least thirty. The majority of them were roofed over, giving no hint of what lay within, but some were left open to the elements. One was absolutely covered in tall grass. Another seemed to be filled with sand and loose pieces of rock. There was another that looked very much like a bottomless pit with flimsy platforms suspended by support pillars. And around the edges of each were rows and rows of seats for the prospective audience.

"Are you making notes?" Anode said to the gathered group, peering down into the open arenas, "Perhaps we can see what the conditions are in those arenas?"

"I'd be surprised if those are going to be used in the tournament," said Alexandra, from where she stood with one arm around Sasha's shoulder, "I'd bet good money that it's a misdirection. We can only rely on what we see when we get into the contestant area. And even then, the organizers might have a few surprises for us."

The drone circled around to a landing pad, touching down as smoothly as ever. As we got closer to the ground, the sheer scale of the arenas became clearer. I couldn't begin to imagine the amount of effort it must have taken to set all of this up. I could see several teams being led into an entrance up ahead by a guide, and a spindly CI who stood over seven feet tall awaited our group.

"Aha, welcome," they said, giving a neat bow excitedly, "I am Crosstalk, one of the organizers, and welcome to the tournament! Can I please ask any spectators to head over there, we will be locking the teams into the arena shortly!"

Regolith gave us a curt nod and, Malati gave us all a hug for good luck (which did take a few moments) before they both made their way in the indicated direction, leaving just the team behind.

"And can I have your team name?" said Crosstalk.

"Overgrown with Moss," said Blaise, "Team Moss for short." It had made sense. The average age of the group (myself included, being technically over a thousand years old) was through the roof, and we'd chosen green as our team colour. Overgrown with Moss fit us nicely, and though Antonia was on the younger side, she was working on a special moss to commemorate our participation so it suited her. The only other two in the group it didn't particularly fit were Tungsten and Anode (who were both in their thirties) but they'd happily gone along with the idea.

"Oh, very nice!" said Crosstalk, clapping happily, "Love the colour co-ordination! Follow me!"

Crosstalk explained as we walked forward some of the tournament's rules. Once we were 'sealed in' with the other contestants we weren't allowed to leave until the tournament was complete or we were eliminated. Otherwise we'd be disqualified. That was just part of ensuring all participants played fairly and were immersed in the 'microcosm of the game'. In terms of scoring, the first three matches would be played using a points system, which would then determine the brackets for an elimination-style tournament tree.

Large corridors with rounded, open-air roofs served as our conduit between the various arenas, with a variety of décor themes to each one. I thought briefly that we were like hamsters in an expensive playpen, moving between the various arenas in tunnels excitedly. We saw other teams as we walked, who were mostly themed up for the event too - most waved a greeting to us. One group was even wearing medieval-style breastplates and greaves, clearly taking their theming very seriously.

"We're taking each group to their team rooms now," continued Crosstalk, "We hope you like it! We'll give an announcement when you're alright to go around and start mingling with the other teams."

After quite a while of walking, we were shown into a large grey room with two open-plan levels. There was a large, round window that looked out over the ocean. The entire space was filled with couches and seats, and the area above had large boards with projection generators installed for planning, including a conference table.

"Oh!" said Crosstalk, going silent and seeming to concentrate for a moment. The grey colours of the room faded into dark greens and supplementary patterns. "TEAM MOSS" was now stencilled prominently on the wall in an appealing font. The room now looked very fit for purpose. "And through that door over there, you'll find your engineering room. Your Proxies are already in there, fabricated to your specifications. But for now, please stay put. We will make our announcement shortly."


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