The stench of sweat and blood engulfed the gymnasium as the men were fighting inside the rings. Sniffs and grunts could be heard, accompanied by the sounds of heavy punches. Fighters were throwing and pinning each other. The slamming of their bodies against the canvas booming around the room. Sav watched intently, studying a particular pair of brawlers swinging wildly against one another. The slightly bigger one stepped back to avoid a straight right hand, finding himself trapped in a corner. The other beast seized the moment and ducked low, coming up with a vicious uppercut, breaking the nose of his opponent, a loud crunch and they pushed on.

  While Sav was spectating, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. It was Gene, his former coach and the owner of the gymnasium.

  “Got a minute, Sav?” the short, old man asked, puffing on a cigar.

  His gray hair was slicked back with so much gel; one could use it for a week. He rocked a smile which missed a couple of teeth, a reminder of his younger years. He had been coaching long before Sav was even born. The two savages behind them had stopped their rumbling at the appearance of the older gentleman. Gene commanded respect. The savage with a broken nose was seemingly not bothered by the blood pouring down its mouth, staring at Gene with a doe-like expression.

  “What’re you looking at girls? Go on!” Gene joked and waved a hand at Sav to follow him.

  They went up a green, rusty set of stairs and into the old fighter’s office. It was not unfamiliar to Sav as he had been there many times, discussing private matters with his former coach or signing contracts for upcoming fights. Sav sensed something was different this time. He could recognize it by the way old Gene shuffled around before settling. Sav had rarely seen him nervous.

  “What’s troubling you, old man?” he asked.

  “My back these days, it’s been killing me...” Gene smirked. “Sit down.”

  Sav took a seat on the wooden chair across from Gene and watched as the old coach sat down himself, ashing his cigar.

  “You fighting nowadays?” Gene asked.

  “Why, what have you heard?”

  “I heard you were in the League, a replacement fighter…”

  “Correct, I’m not on the rankings. The pay is good… why bother?”

  “Heh, you don’t think you’d place far?”

  “I think it’s not worth the hassle.”

  “Ah, I see, you think you’re too good for the League. They’re beneath you…those amateurs. Is that it?” Gene chuckled.

  “You know the answer to that, old man,” Sav answered, shifting in his seat and scanning him. He was beating around the bush.

  “Is this why you called me up here? To stroke my ego?” The young man scoffed.

  “Stroke your ego? I speak truth, Sav. You are better than those guys. If only you’d—“

  “If this is another offer…”

  “No, no.” Gene said, stood up and took a step towards the windows of his office, looking down at the fighting men. He closed his eyes. “All of these guys… they’re never going to become a fraction of the fighter you are ,Sav, and that’s a fact. Hell, some of them would be lucky to even make it to the League.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Gene?”

  “I’ll be shutting the gym down next month.” The old man turned to face him.

  “What?”

  “You saw the men down there, not more than twenty. I got maybe twenty more enlisted and that’s it.”

  “I see, no income.” Sav muttered.

  “I’ve been bled dry. Equipment, coaches, those neuro-stimulants we pump the guys with, and the fucking taxes. I can’t catch a break. Ever since that new governor began serving, more and more suits have been breathing down my neck. With their sleazy smiles and cheap cologne…”

  “That Adkins fella?”

  “Yes, that fat fuck! What the hell is a violence tax supposed to mean? This is a sport we’re talking about!”

  Sav glanced at the windows then back at his former coach. “Can’t you expand or something? Start teaching kids’ classes or some shit?”

  “Hell, no! I’d rather burn the place down before turning it into something that it isn’t. You know what we do here better than anybody! This place has history.”

  “What other choice do you have?” Sav asked, leaning back on his chair.

  “I have no choice…but I do have a ticket.”

  “A ticket?”

  “Yes, a ticket. To salvation, maybe even more…”

  “What’re you talking about, Gene?” Sav shook his head.

  “Just wait here.”

  “Gene, I already told you I’m not fighting for you! We’ve been over –“

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  “Not for me.” Gene said, then took off, leaving Sav alone for a moment.

  Sav stood up and walked over to the windows, the training session for the day had ended and everyone was heading out, some to the lockers. Small robots came up from under the rings and began cleaning the gymnasium, spraying the area with some kind of disinfectant while they rolled around on their wheels. Those small bots reminded Sav of his childhood. Robots were nothing new in this world. He was mentored by them in the ways of combat, brought up by them. Creations which had been his key to survival growing up in Yuna. While others cowered away at the sight of them, Sav knew they were not to be feared but used. After all, they were created to benefit mankind. There were exceptions, of course. Sav had studied their algorithms, knew when and where they’d move. Robots were not like humans; they relied on data and data alone. No hesitation, no change of heart and most importantly – no fear. That’s the reason they had become so favored in battle. They did not need to be fed, clothed or paid. They did not need convincing, no lies stringed along to make them fight a war they did not believe in. Superior to humans in most aspects but still created, controlled and designed by mankind. Man was the ultimate ruler until he forgot that he was meant to be just that—man. Three hundred years had passed since the first human hybrid, and nobody today could even remember its name. Why would they? Everyone nowadays had some software placed in them and most were hungry for more. There was always some new tool that could make you digest information at godly speeds, message your friends in a blink of an eye, or the latest heart apparatus which could make you live longer! All of it came with a hefty price though and money was the last of it. Sav knew that very well. Loss of identity, impulsive killings, even death. But all of that was swept under the rug. The High State wanted the masses to believe that those errors were just a natural obstacle in the way of the grand evolution of humankind. A sick joke and nothing more, Sav thought.

  The young man was no hypocrite. He had acquired some tech over the years, only to aid him in his combat ventures of course. He knew the risks, but it was only fair, he wasn't about to get killed by some weaklings with money, who thought they could just slap some gear on and walk around like they even grasped what it was to be a fighter. No way. Fighting was all Sav knew. It protected him, ensured his livelihood. It was an irreplaceable part of his identity, which no piece of tech or programming could ever change.

  The office door creaked open, and Gene walked in, carrying a small card in his right hand. He went back to his desk and sat down. Sav followed.

  “That’s your ticket?”

  The old coach slid the card to Sav and spoke. “Look at it, it’s no mere ticket.”

  The young fighter took the card in his hand. It was no bigger than his palm. There was a small red button in the center and an inscription above it: H.S.

  “High State? What does the High State want with you, Gene?”

  “Oh, I’m not the only one who’s received this. It came last week…I was just about to open the gym when one of the State’s cyborgs stopped me and handed me this thing. They’re looking for fighters and not just from Yuna, but from many other planets as well, from what I’ve heard.”

  “So what? The State’s looking to arrange themselves a circus?”

  “You ought to hear for yourself.”

  Sav hesitated, then put the card on the desk, pressing the red button. There was a short buzzing and then a red hologram appeared. It was the head of a robot with one eye on its forehead and a straight line for a mouth, no ears. A short silence followed before the eye opened, and the robot started its speech.

  “Greetings, dear listener. This is an automated message from the High State. It is not to be copied, emulated or plagiarized under any circumstances. Failure to comply with the forementioned norms is punishable by law. Thank you.”

  There was another brief pause, and the men looked at each other. Has Gene heard the full message? Sav thought.

  “The High State prides itself on having the best security system and personnel in the whole galaxy. As you all know our residents’ safety and well-being are among our top priorities. That’s the reason the High State is now officially campaigning to recruit new members for our workforce. You have the golden opportunity of a lifetime to join the ranks of the High State and get the privilege of serving and protecting.”

  “What a load of—“

  “Our dear leader and governor of the High State, Padromo III, is organizing a 100-man fighting tournament to determine who amongst you possesses the skills to serve the High State. Twenty of the very best will be assigned roles in the most prosperous group of security of the High State – EAGLE, and only one man out of 100 will have the honour of being hired as the governor’s personal bodyguard, which also includes receiving a prize of one million zens…You may apply at your nearest H.S. committee. The places are limited. Thank you!” Once again, a short buzz and the hologram disappeared.

  “What do you say?” Gene asked, failing to contain the excitement in his voice.

  “Serving the High State? Really, Gene?”

  “Can’t you see it’s not about that?”, the old man snapped. “This is a golden opportunity but not for the reasons you might think.”

  “Yeah?”

  “This is an opportunity for you to make a name for yourself. To show those H.S. assholes what a real fighter is. Show them who ‘The Orphan’ is!” Gene half-shouted, standing up again.

  There was an intense look in Sav’s eyes. He hadn’t heard the nickname for quite a long time, an echo of a painful past.

  “I don’t know, Gene… I’m pretty content with my life here on Yuna.”

  “Content? Who needs that? We’re fighters, man! Comfort is the dream killer!” There were notes of desperation in his tone.

  Sav chuckled to himself, recalling how often the old man used to say that. “I can’t just jump into this…I gotta think about it, nothing is as it seems with the H.S., you know that.”

  “True…but it is an opportunity…Maybe you can save yourself from this fucking slum planet and have a life. Who cares if it’s under the H.S.? There aren’t many options nowadays…”

  “I don’t know…” Sav trailed off.

  Gene sighed. “Look, just go and sign up at the committee tomorrow morning, there’s no way you won’t place with that record of yours. What’s there left in Yuna for you anyway?”

  Sav thought about his younger brother. Sammy was gone now, two summers had passed by since his death. He was just a kid. Bitterness and grief threatened to swallow Sav up, but he shook those notions away. Only indifference remained, that was the only way he could shield himself from those thoughts, he had to move on, and he did.

  “Alright, I’ll do it… but don’t expect me to share those zens with your old ass,” Sav joked.

  “Well, if it wasn’t for my ass, you’d never know about this thing, I’m sure you won’t forget about old Gene when you make it to the top…” Gene shot back.

  “Heh, right…”

  It had gotten late. The static of the lights downstairs buzzed in the background. It was just like the old times— familiar. A fond scene from the past unfolded before Sav— right in this room. They were discussing what Sav had done wrong after one of his fights. Gene had scolded him so harshly back then, that he swore never to repeat those mistakes again. The old man trudged towards the office door and grabbed the handle, forcing Sav to snap out of it. “I’ve got to close up, don’t want those cyborgs on my door giving me a lecture.”

  The pair went down the stairs, and Sav waited for Gene to turn the lights off, then they stepped outside. That friendly cool breeze of the night embraced them both and they stood there, staring at each other. The lines on the forehead of Gene were more noticeable than ever, and his eyes had that tired look to them — being a fighter most of his life hadn’t helped. Feels like a goodbye. Sav thought.

  “Will I see you again, Gene?”

  “Make sure you go and sign up tomorrow, eh?”

  “Yeah, I will.”