Races

The races. The ultimate form of entertainment in the universe. They had replaced every other form of entertainment known to man. Every planet, country, city, place, and person tuned in for the races. They dominated a major portion of the lives' of everyone alive. Whether it was to watch the games or to participate in them, to play for the fun and thrill or with political stakes entwined with them, or to participate for fame and glory or to play for the cash. Races had taken a key position in everyone's lives.

Kalsen had initially seen a race on the way back to the clinic one day. The tetra screen was blaring at full volume trying its hardest to be heard over the bombastic cheers of the crowd. Cheers, shouts, hoots, and screams of varying degrees of emotions filled the surroundings with excitement like no other. Kalsen, stuck in the crowd, resigned to his fate and decided to watch the race.

Before this, Kalsen had never seen a race in his life. Previously when his mother was with him, he was barred from watching them. After she had departed, Kalsen was too busy in the orphanage to watch one of the races.

A loud horn blared out from the tetra screen as the race kicked off. It was a cycling race. With anything but normal cycles. The cycles gleamed in the artificial light of the racecourse, vivid colors and numbers marked the different cycles of each participant.

The participants blasted forward with a loud boom. The sound was so loud that it momentarily drowned out the cheers of the crowd. Kalsen covered his ringing ears and watched the screen with a dazed expression. The racers accelerated, zooming, weaving, and dodging the various obstacles and races in the way. The camera paned ahead of the racers, showing the perilous course ahead.

Suddenly one of the racers lost control of his abnormal cycle and was sent spiraling. Clashing against another cycle, both racers slid off the track and landed in a pile of ash. The cheering of the crowd intensified as the camera zoomed into the two racers. One of the racers scrambled out of the wreckage and tried to run for the track.

*Crackle* *Crackle*

A loud sound erupted behind him and he jumped for the track instantly. A horrendous red fire shot out from the ground enveloping the two cycles and the unconscious rider beneath them. In an instant, everything was burnt beyond recognition and turned to ash. The fire hungrily expanded swallowing the lower half of the rider who had jumped for the track. Suddenly, the fire rebounded back as if hitting an invisible wall. Well not before swallowing his legs that is. Whatever was left of the man fell dead onto the course.

The noise peaked as every person cheered after seeing two riders meet their unfortunate demise. The camera panned out and continued to show the rest of the race where several other riders met their end in various ways.

Kalsen watched, not confused nor horrified, but with understanding finally dawning on him. Even if he had never watched an actual race in his life, he had heard plenty about it. About how gruesome the races could get, how low of a survival rate they were, and finally how they are one of the few ways to lead a better life. If you win a race, the compensation and the status that come with it would propel you upwards and lead you to a better life.

If you win that is. If you die, there is no glory nor there is any money. And deaths were very common in the races.

Kalsen stared, entranced, at the tetra-screen as the race reached its climax. Two cyclists moved at speeds that were never meant to be reached on a cycle and dodged and weaved through the obstacles. In the end, the number 25 won the race by a millimeter and the crowd erupted into cheers. Kalsen stared into the screen, his obsidian black eyes reflecting the winner.

The crowd slowly dispersed and started to go on with their daily lives. But Kalsen stood rooted to the spot, still watching the tetra-screen.

He was broken out of his stupor only when an advertisement started to play. Kalsen started to walk back, when something inside him stirred.

'If I win, I can get money.' Kalsen would no longer have to worry about money.

'People wouldn't be able to take my things,' a sharp pain shot through his heart as Kalsen thought of the stone that was the only thing left by his mother.

'But to do that...I need strength,' Kalsen's hands throbbed. The burn had been so bad that they had no intention of healing. The skin hadn't regrown with red patches forming the shape of a huge hand when put together. Even his fingers were affected as he often had trouble doing precise work with his hands.

Kalsen reached the clinic where Yetri was waiting, as usual, laying down on the bed.

*Zzzzz* *Zzzzz*

Slight snoring emitted from Yetri as his signature bedsheet covered his body like a coccon. Kalsen stared at Yetri and sighed softly and went to fetch the bowl of water. But alas, Yetri woke up right before he could do anything.

-----------------

In the present, Kalsen stared back into Yetri's blue eyes and answered with a steady voice.

"Yea."

"Mmm," Yetri nodded drinking his soup.

"When are you registering?" Yetri asked after a thought.

"In a month's time," Kalsen broke out into a slight smile. Yetri was always Yetri in the end.

"Hmm, ok," Yetri took a few more spoons of the soup.

"I'll have a lot of work to do after a month won't I?" Yetri asked softly.

"Yea, I hope you don't get too lazy to do basic chores." Kalsen let out a small laugh.

"Hmm, I'll think about it," Yetri answered finishing his bowl. "Now go do the chores, you have a lot of them left."

Kalsen's smile stiffened slightly and he sighed. In the end, he got up took the bowls and walked to the kitchen. All the while feeling Yetri's eyes follow him out of the room.