“We will choose,” the woman said, sounding dissatisfied. “Prove yourself against the others and gain our allegiance. We will call you our king then, outsider, and not before.”

It was her Concept, obviously. The hardy yet pragmatic chief. She had seen the truth of these invasions. Undoubtedly, if I won her loyalty, she would prove a lasting and powerful ally. In order to accomplish that, I would have to do something I’d never done before. Defeat another Liveborn.

I found myself thrilled by the notion. At this point, my realm had known peace for twenty years. I was hungry for something new, a challenge my State couldn’t present.

Another Liveborn. Another emperor, like myself. This would be a foe unlike any I had ever crossed.

“I repeat my question,” I told the woman. “Is he still here?”

“Yes.”

I grew excited. “Where?”

“In our village. You will have to come in our company if you wish to meet the emissary.”

“That’s not—” Shale began.

“We’ll do it,” I said, already climbing down from the chariot.

Shale was not pleased—and neither was Besk, whom I required to stay behind with the armies to take command if something went wrong. I was not worried. So long as I had the Aurora at my back, I was worth an army unto myself.

The chief, who said her name was Let-mere, led us past a wooden palisade into a village of huts and stone hovels. The people there had skin a much fainter shade of violet; presumably the spice of warriors was mostly reserved for the upper class. I knew without asking that they’d spent generations fighting against other tribes in this State, mastering the arts of war, believing their valley was the sum of all existence.

I joined the honor guard of natives and walked directly into their village, where the creature I would come to know as Melhi waited.

I stopped at the top of the stairwell.

“And?” Sophie asked, climbing the last few steps behind me.

We’d reached a door I hoped led to the rooftop, but it was locked by a chain. I entered Lancesight and drew upon the Aurora to—

No I didn’t. Damn it. Two centuries of having the power of creation at my fingertips was going to be difficult to reprogram.

“Here,” Sophie said, pulling something from her handbag as I left Lancesight. A very small handgun. “Plug your ears, emperor man.”

“That won’t do anything,” I said, but plugged my ears, remembering how loud the weapons had been earlier in the night. “Handguns are rewritten to fire only paint—”

A near-deafening blast from the handgun interrupted me. Since I hadn’t taken direct command of them this time, my mental boosts kicked in at the sudden explosion. I got to watch in slowed speed as the chain shattered. Sophie’s handgun was definitely not shooting out balls of paint.

“Those things aren’t supposed to work here,” I said, uncovering my ears as she put the handgun away.

“I’m good at doing things I’m not supposed to,” she said, then kicked the door open.

There’s no way she kicked that so solidly with those heels, I thought to Besk. She’s got a hack; either she has a force multiplier on her legs, or those shoes are an illusion.

No reply.

Besk?

The mental link was silent. When was the last time I’d heard him?

That seemed ominous. Should I run?

Don’t be foolish, I thought to myself. I’d survived for centuries without Besk looking over my shoulder. That said, I was a little more wary as I stepped onto the rooftop.

It was raining, but just a fine mist. “So,” Sophie said, walking across the roof. “Where you come from, is climbing steps considered a romantic date?”

“The roof is someplace we’re not supposed to be,” I said, joining her at the side of the rooftop, where a ledge prevented us from accidentally falling off. “I figured you’d like that.”

“We can’t go places we’re not supposed to be,” she said. “Each State, every digital inch of them, was made for us.” She hesitated. “But I doubt the Wode expected this of us, so I’m satisfied. Even if that hike up here was annoying.”

“You’re not winded,” I said. “You have physical boosts.”

She just smiled.

I took a deep breath of the wet air. How long had it been since I’d been outside in the rain? I always had force bubbles around me to protect from the weather.

“Maybe they shouldn’t tell us,” I said. “About our realities being simulations.”

“Don’t be dense. Ignorance wouldn’t be better.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“You should be angry about the lies, the falsehoods.”

“Why?” I asked. “They tell us the truth when we come of age, and everything they do is to make our lives better.”

“We’re like rats in cages,” she snapped, leaning down on the rail and looking out over the dark city, full of twinkling lights in the misting rain. “It’s a beautiful cage, but still a cage.”

“Perhaps,” I said, leaning down beside her. “But I can’t find it in me to be angry at the Wode. Without this system, you and I probably wouldn’t exist. Earth couldn’t possibly support such a high population otherwise. We live good lives. Every man is a hero, every woman a leader. It just . . .”

“Feels washed out?” she asked. “Like we’ve been living in a movie?”

I didn’t know what a movie was, but I nodded anyway. “Surely some of it has to be real though, Sophie. My achievements, my learning. Even within the false framework, I’ve accomplished things, saved lives.”

“Fake lives.”

“People. I protected them. Heroism is real.”

“Heroism? You can’t die, emperor man. What is there to be heroic about? They throw some little paper figures into the water, and you dive after them, proud that you’ve rescued a few when the Wode could make a billion more literally with the snap of their fingers—or even resurrect the ones that died. As for your ‘accomplishments,’ I assume they’ve dangled something in front of you, a special skill only you can learn and progress at?”

“We call it Lancing,” I admitted. “You’d call it magic. I’ve been searching for its deepest secrets.”

“For me, the carrot was the nature of the States themselves,” she said, heedless of how the rain was ruining her makeup and hair. “I wanted to know the truth of reality. That drove me to study, to learn. The more I did, the more I realized how deep their illusion went. They used even that against me, giving me more information bit by bit. To keep me interested, curious. They try so hard to make our lives seem meaningful.”

“Difficult to blame them for something like that.”

“It’s not like their lives are enviable either,” she said. “The Wode. They’re just caretakers. They eat bland soup every day and sit at terminals.” She tapped the railing. “I said that you should be angry. So should I. But to be honest, it’s hard for me to get mad at anything these days.”

“And that’s why . . .”

“Why I just do whatever I want,” she said. “I invent conflicts, spark wars. Latch on to anything that makes me feel. I had high hopes for hating you tonight, since the compatibility projections said we’d never get along.”

“Were they right?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Like I said, conflict is fun.”

“I can punch you, if you’d prefer.”

We stood in silence, and I realized something. There was a good reason I hadn’t gone out in the rain recently. It was cold, and it was uncomfortable. I’d left my jacket and hat behind. Perhaps they would have helped.

“This is stupid,” I said. “I need to get this over with and go back to my people.”

“Ah yes. So typical.”

“Which means . . . ?”

“You fit the archetype,” Sophie said. “Here we’ve been having a deep conversation about the meaningless nature of our lives—yet you still want to rush back and be king.”