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As Tierney crossed the cineplex lobby, she spotted Gage near the concession counter, waving his red gaming tickets at her, and she was stunned, because it was only yesterday that she’d last seen him and he’d been fine then. Today, however, twenty-five hours later, his full head of dark hair was feathered with gray, more gray than brown, and deep furrows half-mooned under his beautiful eyes.

“What’s happened to you?” Tierney asked, reaching him. “When you called in sick at the lab, I thought it was so you could be first in line for the contest.”

Gage smiled, but his handsome features remained haunted and drawn. “It was and I’ve never felt better, Tier. I was here when the theater opened. Second in line. I’ve seen the movie three times now. My name’s on the big board.”

Tierney turned. Next to the open theater doors was a giant black-trimmed com-sign. It read:

CAN YOU SURVIVE

DEVIL’S HOLIDAY?

JOIN B COMPANY ON ENEMY-HELD PLANET CWN ANNWN

EXPERIENCE THE BATTLE AS IF YOU ARE THERE

AND

WIN

THE PERSON WHO SURVIVES THE MOST VIEWINGS

BETWEEN FRIDAY AND SUNDAY OPENING WEEKEND

WILL RECEIVE

TEN MILLION DOLLARS TAX-FREE!

Tierney watched as names, from across the nation, from the East Coast to the West, from the Canadian border to the Gulf, scrolled underneath the advertisement. “There must be eighteen-twenty million people playing this contest. What do the red stars mean?”

“Multiple viewings. Those are the current contest leaders.”

“Aren’t too many of those. Half a mil I'd guess. Maybe a mil. But the odds here are still much better than with the Federal Lottery.” She stared at the broken blood vessels webbing the whites of his eyes and the yellow hue tingeing his flesh. “How rough is it?”

“Never seen anything like it. This is as real as it gets without actually being there. I saw some vets bail out.”

Tierney stared inside the theater. Ushers were cleaning the aisles and the seats. Technicians were repairing the viewing helmets. Others were adjusting the robotics in the ceiling. The giant speakers near the concave screen hummed softly with … Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” She frowned. What cornball, subliminal crap. It would have been subtler to play stuff by John Philip Sousa.

“I heard twenty guys were killed while they were filming the landing scene,” Gage whispered in her ear.

“I read thirty. It's all studio hype,” replied Tierney. Suddenly she was angry. “You don’t want me to enter. You’re three tickets ahead of me and you want me to fold in the gate, don’t you?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“I want to win this, too. Maybe even more than you do. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life checking coolant temperatures and waste levels. I’m tired of eating government-issued dehydrated meals and only being able to buy it on my assigned days. I’m fed-up with drinking recycled liquids. I’ve had it sharing my sleep quarters with five other people. I want to go some place where there isn't another single human being for a hundred kilometers. There are still places like that on the planet. You hear about it on the pirate web. Come midnight Sunday I’m the one who will have the most tickets in this contest.”

Gage nodded, weakly. “I've never tasted a real peach. Never. I want to eat a real peach before I'm done. An orange, too.”

“One of us will win this contest," Tierney said. "And that one will take care of the other. We’re partners.”

“Yeah. Partners.”

“But maybe you should sit this viewing out, Gage. No harm in taking one break.”

“I can handle it.”

The ushers finally removed the chain across the door opening and people began to fill inside. Tierney allowed Gage to lean against her as they moved down the aisle.

A male, university age, wearing a green Margaret Sanger Band tee, flashed his three tickets at them. “We’re the only ones left from the first showings,” he said. “Good luck, bud.”

“Luck to you, too,” replied Gage.

The boy staggered toward the front row.

“Where do want to sit?” Tierney asked.

Gage gazed across the rows. “There. On the aisle.”

Tierney eased Gage into his seat and helped him slip his helmet on. Slowly, ever so slowly, Gage punched his personal code into the seat’s remote control panel. Tierney sat down and prepared herself for the film. She patted Gage’s hand. He smiled behind his helmet screen.

As Tierney tapped her personal code into her seat’s remote, the music ceased, the house lights dimmed, and for a moment she was deaf and blind, then she heard the rumble of inter-galaxy transport engines and saw the screen brighten with the words:

PopCon Corporation Presents

For the next two hours, Tierney was on Cwn Annwn. She was a member of B Company fighting the invading alien army. She felt the withering sun on her face as they disembarked near the Mountains of Uca Pacha. She tasted the volcanic ash in the wind and felt the sting of insects on her cheeks. Her eardrums vibrated as laser bullets whizzed past and pulsar mines exploded. She cried when the lieutenant was killed and, later, when the chaplain crawled through the lava rocks to rescue the wounded sergeant. She cheered when they raised the flag over the defeated alien command center.

“There will be a thirty-minute intermission before the next showing,” the usher announced as the house lights came brightened. “Those with validated tickets from this show will be allowed to purchase tickets before any newcomers. Management has decided, because of demand, to show the film around the clock until the contest is over.”

Tierney, trembling, eased off her helmet. Laser rounds had decimated the entire first row. The university boy lay riddled in the aisle. His tickets were still clutched in his fist. In the back section, near the exit, a pulsar mortar had killed four people and wounded several others. Scattered throughout the theater, people had been downed by sniper-fire.

She jumped as Gage touched her arm.

“You made it,” he whispered.

Tierney swallowed but the heavy lump in her throat remained. “Your hair’s gone completely gray.”

“You get in line for the next show,” Gage replied, plucking his validated ticket from the remote dispenser.

“This is madness.”

“Yeah. But what's our alternative, Tier? I’m going to check the big board.”

“Okay … I’ll get the tickets.”