Page 9 of Coldwire
A thrill sparks down my spine as I close in on the back of the cluster. I veer slightly right, joining the group of cadets.
“Better pick it up, Nat.”
Natalie Ward visibly jolts from the scare. A beat later, her expression smooths out when she sees it’s me. “Oh, just overtake me and let me suffer in peace. See you at lunch, bitch.”
I laugh, pushing forward. The eastern side of campus overlooks the river, where the sweet birch trees hang off the ledge and deposit handfuls of yellow-green leaves into the water. I weave and glide, steadily enough to avoid tiring myself out but keeping at a pace that cuts me ahead of a few classmates, then another. People have different stamina paces, even upcountry. However fit we are in virtual usually depends on the limits our own minds set for us. Other cadets have often accused me of having a big head, so maybe I’m competent upcountry by sheer faith and willpower.
The campus grounds curve up on a gentle hill, then back down in a muddy slide. I keep my footing delicate, arms held up for balance. I know the sharp rocks here by heart. None of our instructors are supervising us short of the status updates that the system must be running to the academy. Still, no one is going to straggle or go off-course to dally. We’re not the only military academy outside Button City, nor are we the oldest or biggest, but we’re the most prestigious. It takes the top scores on the entrance exam to qualify for entry. There’s a certain standard that Nile Military Academy sets, one that every cadet is increasingly aware of each time the common room’s screens are streaming the latest breaking news. NileCorp owns us,and where NileCorp goes, renown rains down. The very nature of life as we know it is owed to NileCorp.
I skid at the base of the hill. It doesn’t put any misstep in my stride— I recover in an instant and continue, approaching the end of the perimeter. When I’m the only one who runs up to Coach Chelsea, the warm swoop of achievement cradles my stomach. I’ve pulled to the front significantly.
“I thought you were a cadet from Tier B,” she calls to me. Her hands are propped on her hips. “I didn’t expect to see any Tier A’s for another ten minutes.”
“If you want me to go double and join Tier B’s run too, just say so,” I reply, coming to a stop. I heave a deep breath in. My lungs strain, then steady. NileCorp’s long regulatory manuals will spell out which exact actions upcountry will create which reactions in our avatars, but it’s easiest to assume the StrangeLoom engineers did the hard work and the usual logic we’re used to downcountry follows. They’re meticulous. They’ve gone as far as to ensure our breath will stink after a night of virtual sleeping, which means we monthly users also need to brush our teeth every morning.
“Half of Tier B is back already,” Coach says, “but you could probably catch up to the other half if you go now.”
“Okay.” I pretend to lurch back toward the hill, taking the route of the other class. We didn’t overlap in the middle because Tier B runs through the proper path of the forest rather than the edge overlooking the river, where Tier A goes.
Coach Chelsea rolls her eyes good-naturedly and checks her watch. She’s one of many people who will still buy antiquated items upcountry. She could just as easily blink to open her display and look at the time, but I suppose it must be nice to lift her arm and perform the action she got used to in the years before virtual.
She waves for me to proceed into the gymnasium, where Tiers A and B will merge to resume class. I go through the outer doors, wiping down myshoes at the entryway. I have another pair in my locker, but I don’t know if this is enough mud to warrant a change.
The gymnasium’s inner doors slam open. The sound is loud enough to jolt me, but I relax as soon as I see who it is. Kieren Murray, dressed in class uniform rather than combat gear for physical education. He’s definitely not in this period—I’m pretty sure he has Atahuan Literature now. Not that I’ve memorized his schedule or anything.
“Ward,” he says, and despite his smile, it instantly sounds like a taunt. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” I return his smile, sickly sweet, while I go to open my locker. I make the decision to change my shoes then purely to skirt around Kieren and busy myself. He hates it when people don’t give him their full attention. “We’re twenty minutes into first period.”
“I thought maybe you would have smelled final exam postings dropping and levitated your way to the nearest board.”
My smile falls. “What?”
It can’t have happened any sooner than seconds ago if I haven’t heard about it yet. Typical of Kieren to make it sound like I haven’t been paying attention. He and his twin sister, Hailey, don’t keep their Pods on campus either, so for all I know he also logged back in right before first period.
He looms closer. “Did you do it?”
“Do what?” I demand. I’ve never cut short my teasing so fast. We can go back and forth in classic fashion another day—arefinal exam postingsout?
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“Iliterallydon’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oh, Kieren Murray, my dear nemesis. I’ve been the largest pain in his ass since the summer before ninth grade, after we were accepted into Nile Military Academy based on national entrance exams. We befriended each other at a New Cadet Orientation party, then swore enmity just as quickly the next day when we were seated side by side for a second rankingexam to establish class tiers. Somehow, he and I ended upsharingnumber one because we had both not only received perfect scores but maxed out the bonus points the exact same way. Though they did their due diligence and investigated us for potential cheating, the system didn’t note either of our heads looking up even once. No chance of cheating. In retrospect, it’s shocking that they let me share that rank with him instead of shoving me to number two, given that Kieren’s own father is the academy headmaster.
Four years have passed, and nothing has changed. I rile him up so badly before tests that there are always rumors going around school convinced we must be secretly hooking up because no two people can truly care that much about scoring higher than the other. Rayna is frequently talking me down from sending a blast to the feed debunking the claims. Not that it matters, but Kieren and I have only kissed once. And we were thirteen years old, so it doesn’t count. I don’t know whether I’m more offended by the insinuation that I would partake in hookup culture or that I need another reason to give Kieren Murray an aneurysm beyond being better than him.
“The posting, Ward.” Kieren throws his arms up in the air. “This is unheard of.”
Dad might think that overworking is what fuels my anxiety and derealization, but being the best is what makes me feel most alive. Kieren, consequently, may be my primary competitor, but he’s also my greatest source of joy.
I keep that to myself, of course.
Carefully, I poke one finger at his chest, trying to push him back. “Can you ease up a little? If anyone steps out right now, those rumors are going to be at full fire.”
“You—” His hands grab at the space between us as though he wants to strangle me but can’t quite bring himself to do it. “Fine. I’m going to go sort this out since I apparently have to do everything around here.”
With an abrupt motion, Kieren pivots and storms away.
