Then he nods once.
“Fair enough.”
The next challengebriefing arrives just before noon.
The remaining contestants gather in the arena staging chamber, the atmosphere noticeably tighter now that only eight couples remain in the competition. Conversations are quieter. Jokes are shorter. Everyone here understands that the margin for error has nearly vanished.
Captain Photonic stands at the center of the room with his usual theatrical enthusiasm.
“Contestants!” he booms. “Today’s trial will test precision, coordination, and teamwork!”
The holographic course expands above us.
A sprawling mechanical gauntlet appears—narrow balance beams, moving platforms, timed puzzle locks, and a series of pressure-triggered barriers that must be navigated in perfect synchronization.
Tilda steps closer to the projection beside me.
“Well,” she says softly. “That’s unpleasant.”
I study the rotating segments carefully.
“Looks like timing will matter more than speed.”
She glances sideways at me.
“You’re analyzing.”
“I’ve been known to.”
“That’s new.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
The starting horn echoes through the chamber.
The arena floorsmells like warm steel and ozone.
The obstacle course stretches ahead in a tangled maze of moving platforms and rotating gates. High above us the crowd roars with the restless anticipation of spectators who know the remaining teams are good enough to make every challenge interesting.
Tilda steps onto the first platform beside me.
“Same system as before,” she says quietly. “I call the sequence, you handle the physical work.”
“Works for me.”
She studies the shifting platforms ahead.
“Wait for the second rotation.”
I nod.
The metal beams slide sideways with a grinding roar.
Once.
Twice.
“Now.”
