We were told that our first mission was tomorrow, and that approximately 20% of people died. I felt pretty nervous about the whole thing, but no one else showed a trace of fear. Seriously. The night before, half of my friends were at an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet and the rest were trying to rush Alpha Phi Omega.
The one exception was Edmond, who was playing Halo in his dorm room. In one hand was his sword, and in his other was a game controller. As he prepared for the fighting that would take place tomorrow, Edmond was giving Halo 4 a test run.
“Hi Evan,” he said cheerfully. Every now and then he would turn the sword in his hand and make it glow. He could produce fire with his mind—in two weeks, he had mastered a technique it had taken us years to learn.
“Hi Edmond,” I echoed. “Practicing?”
“Yeah. Are you? Is this your break?”
“A little,” I lied. I hadn’t practiced at all. I blamed the lack of training facilities, and the distracting people outside my door, and a new Youtube channel I found called HowToBasic. HowToBasic was this Australian guy who put up videos with deceptive names like “How to make an omelette,” but all he’d really do is smash eggs and piss on them. On the night that would decide my future, I was marathoning videos of someone pissing on eggs.
“You should probably stop soon,” he said. “It’s getting late.”
“Wait...what time is it?”
He checked his watch. “About 2 AM.”
“How did I not notice this?”
“You must have been having so much fun, you lost track of time.”
With parachutes on our backs, we were ready to jump at a moment’s notice. There were about ten of us (Edmond was in the afternoon section), and all but one were taking part in our first mission. The exception was Keith, a demigod whom we referred to as a “TA.”
“As discussed on your handouts,” said Keith, “your mission is to fight giant spiders. Each spider is roughly nine feet tall, has an average diameter of 20 feet, and has knife-sized fangs. These spiders are hostile, fearless, and will not hesitate to kill you on the spot. In fact, they behave more like bulls than like typical spiders.
“In addition to their physical strength, these spiders are capable of detecting and influencing human emotion. They can smell fear and consume it. If your fear is strong enough, they can even construct human-like hallucinations that verbally abuse you.”
He paused for a moment to take a sip from his water bottle. The water bottle had the Microsoft logo--he must have worked there at some point.
“If you kill one by your own hand, you pass. If you die, you fail. Are there any questions?” No one raised a hand.
“Good,” he said, “we have ten minutes until you jump. I will not be joining you.” He sipped again.
“Now, why don’t we go around the circle? Everyone say your name, your major, and one or two fun facts about yourself.”
The fall was exhilarating at first, then exciting, then boring. Once we opened our parachutes, there really wasn’t much to it.
Shortly before the landing, I caught sight of a spider. It was big and hairy, just as I had imagined, but there was something more to it. On its legs there were hundreds - possibly thousands - of smaller spiders. I couldn’t see their eyes, but in my mind’s eye I saw each one trained directly on my weak, vulnerable flesh. I was so terrified that I missed my target and landed directly in a massive spiderweb.
“It looks like you’re trapped,” said a red-faced fat guy, “want some help?”
“That would be nice.” For the last few minutes I had struggled to escape, but had only gotten more tangled. I knew how to make fire (PK Fire, we called it), but I couldn’t concentrate. There was this spinning in my head. I felt like I was going insane.
“Too bad,” said the fat man, “I’m not here to help you, only to laugh at you.” His laughter was like that of a child’s, a child who sets an anthill on fire and then puts it out with boiling water.
It was hard to move my head in the web, but I managed to get a closer look at him. He looked like a computer science major, or perhaps a nightmarish representation of what I thought a computer science major might look like. He looked like a human-sized collection of fat blogs that were wrapped in paperlike skin. This skin, which looked like it never saw more light than that of his mother’s basement, was dotted with pimples, freckles, and a good deal of acne.
I wanted to say something to him - perhaps a plea, perhaps a comeback. But just before the words came, he ran off. When I looked again I saw the spider approach. It came slowly, as if savoring my fear, and prepared to spin me. I saw its follicles turn to tiny spiders. I saw each tiny spider prepare for a rush. Before anything could touch me, though, a lick of flame came between us.
I fell to the ground. The fire burned the web that was stuck to me but went no further - whoever controlled it had surgical precision. I saw my savior - a tall, slender man who looked like the exact opposite of the previous one. That’s when I saw it: A DCSC t-shirt.
“You’re part of DCSC?” I asked, incredulous. DCSC was something of legend. It was said that in ancient times, the first DCSC members defended the city of Kemper with nothing more than strength, courage, and a laser beam they had engineered and programmed.
“Are you an officer?” I added.
“Actually,” he said, “I’m the president.” I wanted to ask him for an autograph, but in a rush he threw me my sword.
“I’ve detected distress calls nearby,” he said, touching his forehead. Telepathy was something they taught in ECS160, but I heard you could also learn it on your own. “You’re going to have to fight on your own.” He held his own weapon to the sky and disappeared in a flash of white light.
“You..abandoned me,” I told no one. The spider, having overcome its confusion, charged at me. I struck blindly at one of its eyes, but it backed away.
“No I didn’t,” said his voice. “I’ll be guiding you every step of the way, but you have to do this yourself.” The spider made another pass. Again, I struck and missed. The fear was coming back to me and I wanted to cry. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can.”
I tried to focus. I saw the slightest spark, the smallest lick of flame. Was it really there? Had I just imagined it?
“Evan,” said the voice, “I know you’re scared. But this isn’t high school anymore. You’re going to fight a lot, you’re going to see a lot of people die. But if you keep fighting and you keep training, you’re going to live long enough to graduate.
“Then, and only then, you just might be able to hold your own in the real world.” I didn’t know if the flame would grow. I didn’t know what would happen next. I held my footing, steadied myself, and tried to hope for the best.