The Ascension Trials

The Warden's crook clocked Ten in the head. "On your feet, Stockman."

They woke from a shallow slumber, their hands still bound in energy cuffs, and their back pressed against the scalding metal of the train.

"Eyes up." A weary voice rasped from across the aisle. Another Candidate. In the same grey coveralls bearing the Confederacy's emblem and their hair cropped short.

Steeling themselves, Ten dared catch a glimpse of the metropolis of Acarerim flashing by the vents at the top of the wall. Their heart raced. The overcity was a paradise known only to Overborn and Ascended. Ten fantasised about its pleasures, known to them only through the promises of bedtime stories. Fresh fruit by the pound, and clean water so plentiful, the Overborn flushed their toilets with it.

Ten was the first of their set put forward for Ascension.

"Hey." The voice called again as the Warden went into the next carriage. Ten nodded, wishing to be polite, but keenly aware of the risk of being overheard. "What's your number?"

"Zero-one-one-four-two-one-zero. But everyone calls me Ten."

"That's cool. I'm Zero-one-four-seven-three-nine-eight. You can call me Eight."

Ten's eyes roamed between the doors, the vents, and the rolling screens. Surely they were close to the station now.

Another "Hey!" startled them.

"Shh! Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

"Are you from Despe? If you're a Zero-one-one?"

Ten seethed, how could they be so oblivious? "I don't want to talk anymore. If the warden catches us, we'll all get in trouble."

"Tell me, please?" Their captivating eyes fixed upon Ten. They'd rarely seen such a colour.

Checking the Warden wasn't on his way back, they sighed, "Not Despe. Undur."

"Oh..." They slumped against the wall. "I heard about the floods. I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." Ten still heard the screams whenever they closed their eyes. "What about you?"

"Reska, in the south."

"How many siblings?"

"Fifteen. You?"

They held up six fingers. "Used to be eleven."

The other studied them. "Brown hair, brown eyes... Not many chances for Ascension, I reckon?"

"I'll be the first of my set." They returned their scrutiny. "Red hair and green eyes? You're a Rarity."

They nodded. "One of my set gets sent every year - we cycle in and out of fashion. A few have Ascended."

A weight settled on Ten's chest. They needed to Ascend, but Eight's chances were far greater. Rarities always attracted sponsors - Overborns adored their unusual features.

It was difficult to imagine they were all the same species. Every Overborn was totally uniform in appearance - fair skin, brown hair, and blue eyes. In contrast, Stockmen came in many varieties. Blond, red, and black hair, combined with unusual eye colours could fetch a high price, but a Rarity was worth a hundred times as much.

Fashions and trends determined their value, fluctuating with the whims of Overborn celebrities. One year, white hair or dark skin may be all the rage; the next, several of a set would be in demand.

Ironically, Stockmen resembling the Overborns - like Ten - were never popular. Overborns found it unsettling to own Ascendeds that resembled offspring or relatives. Their brown eyes was their only way in with a chance. They didn't care if the one who bought them dyed their hair or had them tattooed, a chance to live a comfortable life was worth more than anything in the universe.

There would only be one Ascension - Eight was in the same boat. Now wasn't the time to be making friends.

The train slowed, and the Warden reappeared, scowling at each of them through the tinted lenses of his goggles.

"Eyes forward!" He commanded. "Listen closely, this will be your only warning. We will be arriving in the next five minutes. Absolute obedience is mandatory. You will enter the stadium in single file, wait where instructed, and have absolutely no contact with any Overborn. No fighting among yourselves, no talking back, no violence of any kind. Misbehave, step out of line, even think about escaping, and you will be euthanized."

A chilling fear washed over Ten's shoulders.

He continued, "The rules of the trials will be explained. The siren signals the start of each game. One of you will Ascend today. The rest will likely be put to auction after the trials - taken on by new Wardens and made into Breeders. Either that, or you'll be Harvested. Whatever happens, you will present yourselves with dignity. Consider any fate an honour, so smile, and be grateful."

He passed by Ten and Eight, making his way into the next carriage to repeat the message to those further along the train.

The Stockmen exchanged hostile glances. Ten worried about potential acts of sabotage - they had every intention to do it as well. But Eight's kindness felt suspiciously strategic, a ploy to make them lower their guard. Ten wouldn't become a Breeder, and the thought of being Harvested made their skin crawl.

***

The train came to a halt. The Stockmen piled onto the platform, to be met with more Wardens forming an armed barricade between then and a crowd of protestors.

Despite their struggle to avoid eye-contact, the black lettering on their banners - proclaiming 'STOCKMEN ARE PEOPLE TOO!', 'END STOCKMEN CAPTIVITY TODAY!', and 'FREEDOM AWAITS IN HARLBOR' - drew their attention.

The Stockmen entrance was cool and dark - welcome respite from the boiling heat of the train, still Ten longed for another glimpse of the city.

A bright light emerged at the end of the tunnel, accompanied by a rushing sound. Ten's throat tightened, and every step grew heavier. The sound intensified, revealing to be not water, but the roar of spectators.

They found themselves in a vast stadium. Artificial grass cushioned their feet, and thousands of blinding lights beat down on their skin. The stands were packed with Overborn and their Ascended - some offering refreshments or shade to their owners. Ten noticed the collars around the Ascended's necks, and the frilly clothing and jewels some had been accessorised with.

Their gaze was drawn up to the camera drones - their nervous expression and frightened breaths magnified on the enormous screens hanging from the beams crossing the open sky.

As the Stockmen were herded into lines by Wardens armed with electrified crooks, the announcer's voice boomed across the stands.

"L-Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Confederacy welcomes you to the Acarerim Ascension Trials!" The crowd erupted. "Today, one lucky Stockman will Ascend into Overborn society! Who will it be?"

The audience responded in unison, "Let's wait and see!"

"Alright, we have an awesome crowd here today. Now, let's meet your Candidates!"

Cameras focused on the Stockmen, each displayed on screen with their number.

The Warden barked, "Well go on, give them a show! Smile and wave!"

Their energy cuffs deactivated, freeing their hands. Most obliged, their forced smiles earning a thunderous applause.

"Such an eclectic bunch! Good luck to you all!" The announcer raved. "For all you newcomers out there, let's recap the rules!" A theme song played, and the screens' displays were replaced with an animated video. "Unusual. Fashionable. Unique. A family isn't complete without one. We love Stockmen! Thirty are chosen every year in each city across the Confederacy for a chance at Ascension - leaving their lowly Wards behind for a life of luxury in Overborn society! Where they'll know delicious food, warm, snugly beds, and the love and affection of their new family!"

The video showed a silhouetted family of Overborn showering affection over a collared Ascended.

"But we must remember - owning an Ascended is a luxury! These lovable creatures need care and attention, so of course you'll want to make sure you only get the best! Introducing, the Ascension Trials! A series of games that will test their skills, assess their behaviours, and challenge their intellect until only one champion remains! You know what time it is - the time we decide which trials our Candidates will be facing today!"

The audience roared as a nine-by-nine grid of trial icons appeared on screen. Overborns shouted out their preferences, their voices rising as the random selection slowed, finally landing on a single icon. Confetti and air horns celebrated the result.

"Our first trial will be... Hundred Squares! The Candidates will be divided into two teams, red and blue!"

As the announcer declared it, half of the Candidates' coveralls changed colour, either red or blue. Ten and Eight were both on the red team.

"The pitch will be covered in a hundred blank squares. If a Candidate touches a tile, it will change to their team's colour. Once all one hundred squares are coloured, whichever team has the most, wins!"

The giant pitch ahead of them burst into light. Before them was a thousand square feet of blank grey tiles, each ten by ten. It would be a test of speed, endurance, and strategy.

Each team took their starting positions. A countdown filled the stadium, followed by the starting siren. Ten sprinted across the pitch, lighting up red tiles as they went. They strategically claimed tiles ahead of the blues, pushing to the far end before turning to fill the adjacent squares.

"Some excellent strategy from the reds! Spread out as much as you can, blues!"

Ten had one great advantage over them all. They were from Undur - they'd had to run for their life more than once. They imagined the floodwaters catching up on them, driving them forward faster than anyone else.

The number of greys dwindled. Thirty, twenty, ten, and as they got to single digits, the audience counted down as they filled them in.

Ten and Eight reached the last square at the same time as a blue. Eight leapt forward, throwing their hand flat against the ground. Their finger grazed the edge of it.

"And DONE! Let's see the scores!" The screen flashed, 'Red-62, Blue-38.' "Victory for the red team! Sorry blues, that means you're all... ELIMINATED!" The Wardens rounded up those in blue clothes, leading them through another tunnel out of the stadium.

Ten helped Eight to their feet. They caught their breath on the way back to their standing area.

"Nice work there, Ten!" Eight held out their hand.

"Not bad yourself, Eight!" They shook it, unaware that their faces were being broadcast to the stands.

"Aww, a beautiful display of camaraderie there! Let's hope we can keep this energy up into our second trial!"

***

The tiles appeared on the screen again. "Round two will be... Dance Dance Dance! I hope you all brought your rhythm shoes today, because it's about to get funky!"

Ten's cheeks burned crimson. "I...er... I can't dance."

"That's okay," Eight grabbed their hand, "Do what I do."

Strange music started, and spotlights shone over the Candidates as they took to their assigned spots. Ten and Eight stood side by side.

"It's easy. Just copy the screen, and don't forget to smile!"

Ten, feeling clumsy all of a sudden, awkwardly copied the dancing character on the screen - their movements closely monitored by the drones. Their performance registered as a sickly colour, while Eight's was a vibrant green. Their efforts baffled Ten.

"Reskans practice dancing every year in case this comes up."

"That's cheating!" Ten protested.

They winked. "Smile! Everyone's watching!"

Eight's infectious energy captivated the crowd. Ten tried to match it, though inside, they were seething.

An airhorn sounded, and the announcer jeered. "Our first round two ELIMINATION!" One Candidate, having fallen down, had their face on the screen marked with an 'X' before they were taken away.

Ten had stamina. Though dancing was new to them, they could keep going long after many of the others. Exercise was a part of life in Undur - if their looks wouldn't give them much chance of Ascension, their physical abilities would.

By the song's end, five Candidates had been eliminated. Gasping, Ten initially refused Eight's high-five.

"Come on... The crowd will love it..." They puffed. Ten eventually gave in.

***

"We are down to our final ten! Let's find out what your final trial will be!"

The tiles spun, the crowd fell hushed...

"It's... Obstacle Alley!" The stadium floor split open, revealing a challenging obstacle course. "The first Candidate to hit the buzzer at the end of the course, wins!"

Ten eyed up the course hungrily. It was just like the training grounds back home. There was no way they'd lose.

"Candidates, to the starting line!"

They took their positions, side-by-side. The others appeared frantic, desperate, and ready to do anything to win. Ten focused on getting ahead of them - if they got enough distance, they could leave the others to fight among themselves.

"Three..." Ten's heart pounded away in their chest. "Two..." They crouched, ready to run. "One... GO!"

An elbow to the gut hit them right out of the gate. Time slowed as Ten watched the others leap up the first obstacle - a ten foot wall with a smooth face. Ten had been knocked about before, one little elbow jab was nothing, and they were soon over the wall in three steps.

"Ooh, some foul play by some of our Candidates. We hate to see it, but there's a lot on the line here, folks! Looks like this one's not gonna be fazed by it though!"

Heavy punching bags on chains swung over a narrow beam. Ten took a moment to plan their timing, then rushed across, pushing the Candidate ahead into the sponge pit below.

"Nothing's standing in this one's path!" The crowd started cheering them on. "Looks like we've got a new audience favourite!"

Ten scrambled under the next obstacle - a net stretched two feet off the floor, reaching the other side ahead of everyone else. They were in first! Only one final challenge remained.

Their heart sank when they saw it. A huge pool filled with water stood between them and the buzzer at the end. They heard the screams echo in their mind again as darkness closed in on them.

"What's this? Are they afraid of water?"

Another Candidate leapt in without hesitation... But they didn't know how to swim. They floundered and splashed, with Wardens watching closely, ready to pull them out.

A hand met Ten's shoulder. Eight was stood heaving, meeting their intense stare. They winced, shut their eyes, and muttered, "Sorry!" Eight pushed Ten into the water, jumping in after them.

"My goodness! What are they doing?" The announcer brayed as Eight dove under Ten, wrapped their arms around their shoulders, and swum to the surface. "They're... They're helping them swim across!"

"What are you doing?" Ten spluttered, fighting not to choke on the water lapping over their face.

"Getting you to the end!"

Eight was the first to the other side, climbing out, and pulling Ten out after. They took a moment to breathe, looking back across the course to see the others hesitating at the pool. Of course, very few Stockmen would've been taught how to swim at all.

Ten and Eight glanced at each other and the buzzer.

"You press it!" Eight gasped.

"What?"

"Your set never get Ascended. Press it, and you'll win!"

Everything faded away as Ten approached the buzzer. They stood a hand away from everything they'd ever dreamed of...

They grabbed Eight's arm. "Together!" Fingers entwined, they pressed the buzzer at the same time. The stadium filled with confetti and applause, with Overborn, and many Ascended standing and cheering. They held up their hands to the crowd, their beaming grins all over the screens.

After a few moments, the announcer's voice stuttered over the din. "Yes, a magnificent display of solidarity... Absolutely fantastic... But... You see the rules state that... Um... Yes... Only one can Ascend... And so we will go off what the sponsors say!"

The applause hushed, replaced with booing and jeering.

The display changed, showing the numbers attributed to both Eight and Ten. The results were harrowing for Ten. Eight had a thousand more points on top of them. Despite all their efforts, they'd been beaten by a Rarity.

"Numbers don't lie! Looks like the sponsors preferred the unique and handsome looks of the Candidate ending in three-nine-eight. So they are this year's winner, and will be Ascending shortly!"

"This is wrong!" Eight yelled. "I don't understand, we both won. We should both Ascend."

Ten shook their head. "I figured this would happen. They liked you better."

"No, they didn't. The crowd love you! Who cares what the sponsors say?"

Wardens closed in on them.

"Just go with them, I'll be fine." Ten nodded. They shook their hand with a grin and clapped for them.

The announcer sounded like their usual bubbly self again. "Look at that! Such sportsmanship! Don't worry folks, our runner up might not Ascend, but they'll be well taken care of."

"No... This... This isn't right." A camera drone flew in front of them. They made a grab for it, stabbed their fingers across the buttons on its underside, and wrapped their arm around Ten. "Hold on tight!"

The drone went straight up, lifting them off the ground. The Wardens rushed beneath them, jabbing upwards with their crooks, but none could reach. They heard the announcer shout and wail, yet their words were smothered by the audience chanting, "Go! Go! Go!"

They flew higher and higher. Some of the other drones flew into them while others recorded their escape. Before they knew it, they were high over the stadium - hanging above the rooftops of many of the city's buildings.

"Hold on, the wind might blow us off course!"

"Off course? Where are we even going?"

"Harlbor. From those signs the protestors carried? I know where it is. We go there, they might give us sanctuary."

"And if they won't?"

They said nothing, biting their lip as they thought. "We'll figure something out."