Seat Number Nine by Megan Salfrank Larry could not believe his luck. He had managed to score tickets to the 2175 Virtual Olympic Games Qualifying Tournament— the hardest tickets to get in the nation—and he had to drag along his little sister. Mel didn’t care a bit about the virtual games, and yet here he was, tickets in hand, climbing into the bus headed toward the stadium, Mel slumped behind him, her nose in a dusty book. He had no idea why she chose to read those things; they weren’t worth anything anymore. No one read books anymore; it had gone out of style in 2050 with jumpsuits and silver. Now it was gold, cotton flannel, and virtual gaming. Larry, of course, had an avatar same as anyone else in the nation, but he wasn’t very good at it. His round stomach and heavy legs always got in the way of the quick getaways and speed needed for the games. He liked to watch them—particularly Hyack240, his favorite virtual gamer of all time, and likely the best there’d been since Malotrope5846 had retired. Malotrope5846 had been brilliant, but Hyack240 was quick on his feet—quicker than he’d ever seen anyone before. The Passenger Inspector scanned over the commuters, the red beam briefly lighting upon each person, mechanically counting everyone, announcing the number as it always did, though no one was paying attention, talking instead about the qualifying tournament they were all headed toward. Larry, still grumbling about having to drag along his sister, vaguely heard the voice announce, “535. Please take your seats,” before it shoved forward from the curb. Larry stood next to a group of Hyack240 fans, bright-eyed, eager to talk about his favorite gamer; his sister was one of the few passengers sitting, her nose in a book, turning the yellowed pages carefully every few minutes. “I heard he fired his trainer again!” one of the fans said. Larry listened intently to the news. “He lost his temper again—threw a chair through a window! Finally fired the useless old fart!” Few gamers kept the same trainer for long, as obsolete as they were—but
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