The details of the Tourney varied from year to year. Sometimes only the top five or six on each ladder qualified; this year it was ten, making it a large one. That meant that the authorities had concluded that there were too many serfs, and so were using the Tourney as a device to prune them back voluntarily. There were other ways, but this was considered to be the gentlest.
On the other hand, this was single-elimination. Normally it was double-elimination, which meant that each contestant had two chances. This year, one loss was all, and that made players nervous, though their chances for final victory were unchanged.
One thousand and twenty-four contestants would start the Tourney: ten males and ten females from every age ladder from Age Twenty-one through Age Sixty: eight hundred in all, plus two hundred from the Junior and Senior ladders (those below and above the normal range) and the Leftover Ladder, and a dozen or so slumming Citizens, aliens and such. Each round would cut the number in half, until the tenth round produced the single winner. Because the number of consoles and the extent of the game facilities were limited, Round One would require four days for completion, and Round Two two days; thereafter single days would suffice. Thus the complete Tourney was scheduled for fourteen days, and that schedule would be kept. Any player who failed to show up promptly for his match would lose by default. Audiences were permitted, but no interference would be tolerated.
Fleta had already seen enough of the game system to appreciate how intolerant the Game Computer was of interference. That reassured her.
“Of course that doesn’t apply to Citizens,” Mach said. “They set their own schedules. But most who have the interest to play, also have the pride to do it properly.”
“But if the prize be Citizenship, and the cost of loss be exile, why do Citizens play?” Fleta asked.
“Mere entertainment. Victory gains them nothing, and loss costs them nothing. They are immune. But those they play against are bound. If you come up against a Citizen, call him sir and play to win. He cannot hurt you, here, except by beating you.”
“Not e’en Citizen Tan?”
“Not even he,” he reassured her.
Then, seemingly suddenly, the Tourney started, and she was summoned to her first game. “I am not allowed to help you, here,” Mach said. “But I will try to tune in on Bane. If I can find him, I can tell him what we need.”
“Do thou do that,” she said, kissing him.
She followed the line to the console. She was the first there, which made her feel better, though she knew it made no difference.
She looked at the screen.
TOURNEY ROUND ONE: FLETA VS JIMBO
She hoped Jimbo was a duffer.
He turned out to be a man in his fifties. There were no ladders in the Tourney; they were for qualification only. He nodded at her, then took his stance at the console.
Her numbers lighted. That meant she could not select ANIMAL. But she had discussed this with Mach, and knew her best route. Without hesitation she touched 4. ARTS.
It settled on 4A: Naked Arts. The choices were Poetry, Stories, Singing, Dancing, Pantomime and Drama, with distinctions between recitative and creative. They assembled the nine-square subgrid and chose, and came up with Original Story telling.
JUDGING: the screen printed. COMPUTER PANEL AUDIENCE.
This was new to Fleta. Should she touch one of the words? But there was no grid.
“We can do it by agreement if we want,” Jimbo said. “Me, I don’t like a machine deciding how I rate, or a panel of experts either.”
“A living audience,” Fleta agreed, relieved. She touched that choice, and evidently he did too, for that one highlighted.
SUBJECT: the screen continued. SELECTED BY COMPUTER RANDOM AUDIENCE.
Fleta hadn’t realized that a subject had to be chosen; she had assumed that any story would do. She wasn’t certain how she would do if she got a bad subject. Since she could not choose it herself, and shared her opponent’s distrust of impersonal decisions, she asked “Audience?”
“Agreed,” Jimbo said immediately.
ADJOURN TO STAGE. And a line appeared, showing the way.
They followed it to the stage. There was a small dais and an audience section with seats for about twenty-five.
Now they had to wait for the audience to arrive. It seemed that a number of Tourney spectators had registered for audience purposes, and were on tap awaiting assignment. The Computer was making a random selection and notifying the selectees of this assignment. They were now following their lines to this chamber.
In a few minutes exactly twenty-five people arrived. They were all serfs, male and female, ranging from young to old. They took their seats in silence.
A note sounded at the large screen set in the wall behind the stage. All eyes fixed on it.
AUDIENCE WILL SELECT SUBJECT FOR STORYTELLING. THE FOLLOWING SUBJECTS ARE AVAILABLE; TOUCH <SELECT> BUTTON ON CHAIR WHEN CHOICE IS HIGHLIGHTED.
Then the screen was filled with an alphabetical listing of subjects, beginning with ABANDONMENT and ending with ZOOLOGICAL. The Computer gave the audience a moment to consider the list, then the first word was highlighted. In a second the next was, and then the third, the lighting continuing at one-second intervals until the list had been covered, several minutes later.
THE LEADING CHOICES ARE, the screen announced, ILLICIT WEALTH, UNTIMELY DEATH, FORBIDDEN LOVE. TOUCH <SELECT> WHEN CHOICE IS HIGHLIGHTED.
The highlight made its tour. Then: SUBJECT IS FORBIDDEN LOVE. AUDIENCE WILL <SELECT> FIRST STORYTELLER.
Then a light illuminated Fleta, and moved across to Jimbo. JIMBO SPEAKS FIRST.
Fleta did not know on what basis the audience decided, but she was relieved; this was proceeding so efficiently that she had not been able to organize her thoughts. She was, after all, an animal; she knew she lacked the versatility of a human being. What story of forbidden love was right for this audience?
“Uh, well,” Jimbo said, evidently also somewhat at a loss. He did not seem to be any better prepared for this than Fleta was, which made her wonder. Maybe he had just gotten into a bad area, for him.
Then he shrugged, as if deciding something private, and began his story.
“There was once this serf, and he wasn’t much, he was forty when he came to Proton, but all they let anybody have is twenty years anyway so maybe that didn’t make much difference. He was a message carrier—any time the Citizen wanted a note delivered personal, so it wouldn’t be in the records, this serf would hand-carry it to wherever it was going. It wasn’t a bad job; he got to travel all over Proton, just taking messages, and got to sleep over at some pretty fancy Citizen estates while waiting for the reply-message to be ready. It went along like this for about nine years, and then the Citizen died and his daughter inherited it.”
Jimbo paused. Fleta saw some knowing smiles in the audience, and realized that they were guessing what was coming next. This seemed to be Jimbo’s own story! “This woman, the new Citizen, was maybe twenty-nine years old, and she was the damned loveliest creature in the dome. Her hair sort of rippled when she walked, throwing off highlights, and her eyes were like twin headlamps, they were so clear and bright. But because she was new, she was uncertain, and she didn’t want to make any fool of herself, putting on the wrong airs in the wrong place, you know, specially when it came to handling serfs. So she sort of asked this serf for advice, because he’d been with the estate for nine years and kept his mouth shut, because sometimes the messages he carried were verbal and he would’ve been fired if he ever breathed a syllable of them to any but the designated party, so he just didn’t say much of anything to anyone, just to be safe. She liked that, so she said, ‘I want a message, only to me,’ and then she asked how she should handle this other serf who sort of did things wrong but didn’t mean to. And the message serf, he delivered his message, only it was really just his advice, that she should maybe reorganize her household a little, and move that clumsy serf to another position without saying why, so no feelings would be hurt and nobody had to be fired. And she did that, and it worked out just fine, and after that she asked for other messages like that.