Page 88 of Light Leech

She nodded. “As much as I can.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this exhausted.”

“And you probably won’t ever again. I can fake my way to charisma any time, except for this.”

“Is that because you had to use your Gui?”

“No. Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean it wore me out. All of that… What was the point?”

“To not stop thinking?”

“And I want nothing more than that.”

I watched and saw few people pairing off in conversations. Everyone else stared ahead. The people behind were the same. All gazed with empty stares that drank in the senseless abyss with pleasure.

“You good to keep going?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

She left it at that. We continued with the crowd. I tried to regain control over my thoughts and bare cognitive ability that was slipping through my fingers like sand.

The announcement came what felt like an hour later.

“Segment two: Correction.”

If I had been in my body, I was sure I would have been struck with a chill.

“In this segment of the Standardized Test, you will compete to correct your opponents’ errors. Each of you will be given a truth, which you will not believe. Your duty is to convince others of this truth. Those who fall to the persuasions of others will be eliminated. Be aware that not all individuals in this challenge will be human. Any artificial participants you convince will join your path to convince others of your truth. Thirty six participants will be permitted to continue on to the third segment. Those who fail are not fit for Pure Knowledge. Begin.”

The hallway disappeared. Our world gained light, placing us in the center of a room without any cubicles or furniture. The beige flooring and white ceiling lights were enough to lead me to conclude that it was a corporate office space, though I could be mistaken. Distant windows in every direction looked out into a blue sky, much clearer than anything I had ever seen.

The space was filled with people in beige office wear, matching the floor’s exact shade. I glanced down to see myself in the same suitcoat and matching pants. I stood three feet away from the four people in each cardinal direction. The pattern repeated for them, leaving us all spread throughout the office, though the number of occupants totaled far higher than seventy five. Despite the addition of additional intelligences, I had not anticipated this many, nor did I expect to be in a normal world setting with all of the flesh and rigidity I had missed in the conceptual neurocore.

Despite the tangibility, it was not quite normal. Besides the obvious oddity of uniformity and an empty office, the outfits we wore and the room’s design were far too old for the modern light era. Perhaps this was what offices looked like in the virtual era, back when VR attempted to accomplish what neurospaces completed today.

This was not real. I accepted that, glad that I had my memories and the lucidity to recognize the deviation from reality, unlike my experiences with Naoma’s therapist and Kalacia.

I looked up to a text bubble that floated before me. Before reading, I watched everyone else focus before them to read theirs, though there was nothing for me to see.

I read my message. “Your truth: Hatred creates peace.”

“Zeg that,” I muttered under my breath. Looking around to see if someone had overheard me, I was relieved to see that I was not the only one who expressed frustration over the absurdity of their “truth.”

I glanced around, even swiped my hand through the message in a desperate grasp for another option.

“I can’t do this! I don’t believe it!” someone shouted.

“I’m not going to tell people that reading is impossible,” another complained. “I’m reading this right now!” As soon as she finished, she disappeared, leaving a red icon that read “eliminated” in her place. The sign disappeared a few seconds later.

“Your truth: Hatred creates peace. Convince your peers that this is true.”

The message vanished.

The man next to me approached. “So, how do you feel about fish?”

I wasn’t paying enough attention to reject him. I was too focused on trying to convince some poor self-proclaimed genius that hatred was the best way to peace. I laughed. “Sorry?”