Page 9 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

I’m not ignorant to the way my mind’s already starting to view Evot Training School in the past tense, but there’s no other option when I’ll never go back there. Even if I managed to miraculously survive, I wouldn’t need to be a student any longer because I wouldn’t have to train for TBG as a Bonded.

But I hardly spare a thought for that possibility because I’m far more likely to grow a tail than live through this.

And I definitely won’t be surviving as an Unbonded. That’s so ridiculous it’s not even funny.

And this all means . . . I’ll never see my parents again. The last image I’ll have of my mum will be her sobbing in my dad’s arms before I walked out my childhood home’s door for the last time.

After being allowed to visit them this morning to say a proper goodbye—since The Bonding Games has a no-contact-with-family rule for Players—I was herded straight back into the limo, which had been going from house to house for a couple of hours so that all of us who wanted to could visit family. There was hardly enough time to tell them I loved them.

And my parents were all I had—I have no friends to spend the short remainder of my time alive with.

I’m truly alone now.

Tears spring to eyes still puffy from an earlier crying session, and I sniffle, a strong whiff of leather filling my senses as I do. Looking through the window beside Dex’s head to try and distract myself from my sombre mood, my breath hitches at the sight that greets me:

The Wall, I know from school, is fifty feet high. It spans the entire perimeter of Techtis, keeping all the elite in and the rest of us out; the Game Master himself made sure that no one in Techta is lower than middle class, but he still likes to flaunt his extortionate wealth and status with the city we’re approaching. There’s only three entrance points, one double door on the section of The Wall in each Zone that allows citizens to come and go, but they’re hardly ever opened; Techtis has anything and everything you could possibly desire or need, so the rich wouldn’t commonly want to leave, and the only people I’m certain are coming in are Players for the Games each year.

We drive until we reach the ridiculously tall and wide inky doors, where an Evot on duty sits in a rectangular black box that has to contain the control panels to open and close them. Our driver must roll down his window because the guard leans closer, and words I can’t make out are exchanged.

Then the doors start to move. Opening inwards, I watch in awe as they slowly give way to the city within, and my eyes meet Techtis for the first time.

The limo rolls onwards, and my lips part as my widened gaze roams over the white, red, and green Avri all around: a bright white circle beaming at me from a sky-high tower; crimson square outlines embedded in the taalk footways along the sides of the road; a familiar shade of emerald lining every sharp edge of a bin . . .

Sometimes in Evot Zone, you can find bursts of colour other than green, black, or the rarer white, but only really in things like flowers or food as it’s preferred even in casual clothing and fancy dress to show off your classification’s colour, and all other items, such as hairbrushes and bookcases, as well as walls and flooring both inside and outside, are predominantly black with green accents. So it’s almost an assault on the senses to see anything more than that.

And the people . . . they’re everywhere. In every shade of each social classification’s colour.

A swallow doesn’t do much to ease the dryness that’s infected my mouth.

Neutrals aren’t exactly rare to see as they work for both Evots and Exots as well as in their own Zone, but seeing chunks of them together as large groups of friends and families walk by as we go deeper into the city is a little surreal. But the Exots . . .

It’s the Exots who really feel like rarities.

Maybe it’s that way for me because Evot schools only ever see Evot faces and a few Neutrals, and I didn’t use to leave EvTS 246 much at all. Or maybe it’s also because, unless an Evot is in the Neutral Zone, you won’t typically find an Exot unless they’re visiting family. And although it’s not expressly prohibited, it’s an unspoken rule to keep to Neutral areas or your own.

I myself have never even been to the Neutral Zone; my parents are both Evots, so I was brought up in Evot Zone, and I stayed there after finishing first school, where I was sorted into my social classification and carted off to a nearby second school. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen an Exot in real life before this, not unless I were to include students from my first school who were moved to the Exot Zone the moment they received their classification in their last year. I’d certainty never seen red Avri on anything other than a screen. Techtis is the only place the social classifications mix so openly and plentifully, where an Evot will find it completely normal to see an Exot sat at a table across from them in a restaurant. Even in the Neutral Zone, I think that would ordinarily feel like a violation.

Turning my head to the window behind me, my eyelids stretch ten times wider, and I suck in a loud gasp. The sound draws the attention of the other Evots, Mavry’s eyes popping open as if he’d subconsciously sensed the change in atmosphere. “Holy shit . . .” he breathes as he straightens up, following my gaze.

The Bonding Games Headquarters is hard to miss when its buildings are smack in the middle of Techtis, but they’re only seen on TV—unless, of course, you’re a Player or one of the rich citizens of this region who are privileged enough to live in the city. So this is the first time we’re seeing it properly.

Up front is the gigantic title in a blinding white, THE BONDING GAMES HEADQUARTERS lit up like a beacon and positioned on the upper front wall of the central building, which I know from seeing a bird’s-eye view of on TV extends several hundred metres back and then to both the left and right behind the Headquarters’ two other buildings in a T-shape. Other than the training room that we see during the first live recording shown on TBG each year, most people don’t actually know what’s inside the main facility—not including the infamous Bonded chambers and what we can guess are the obvious essentials for Players, like living quarters and more training rooms—so I can admit that, despite my apprehensions, I’m just a little curious to see inside.

I mean, it’s a mystery really, the exterior just pure unobstructed, opaque taalk, flat surfaces all around except for the large letters and doors up front. The number of floors is unconfirmed to the public, and it’s hard to tell without any breaks or visible windows, but being so close, I’d guess maybe three or four, depending on how high the ceilings are. Considering many structures these days favour increased vertical space, it’s likely three.

Hugged by the right angle on the left of the T-shaped building is The Dome, where five of the six Bonding Games are held: It’s quite literally a colossal oval-shaped dome that reflects the sun blindingly and features an all-around netting of Avri in luminous white, green, and red. Inside, it’s common knowledge that it’s majorly made of taalk to ensure it can’t be damaged by the Avri used in the Games, and while it’s too far to see well, I know The Courtyard where Game 4 takes place is right outside on its left and holds the side of The Dome that’s the entrance for audiences to come through.

The third and last building is a fifty-story skyscraper, which I attempt to see the top of as I squish my face against the tinted limo window as we keep inching closer:

Almost as eye-searing as The Dome in the daylight, the metal-and-glass structure reaches the clouds at 762 feet, and I narrow my vision against the harsh rays as I take in the many, many windows, a complete contrast to the zero I counted on the other two structures. In fact, the entire thing appears to be one great, big, whopping window.

I think I may need to get my retinas checked after staring for so long.

Everyone knows this is where The Council operates and lives, but if it wasn’t already clear, the letters reading TECHTIS COUNCIL halfway up the building and the symbol beneath depicting a white circle, emphasising the two different-coloured squares, one red and one green, with their corners overlapping diagonally in its middle, scream it for the world to understand without any doubts.

Reaching the end of the long taalk road, the car rolls to a stop, and I blink out of my daze.

My stomach sinks like a lead weight as I remember the reality of all this beauty all at once.