The dismissive chuckles from Kael and his cohort faded behind Lex as he pushed through the heavy dormitory door. The grin stayed plastered on his face, a shield against the simmering humiliation of that red 22:18 on the leaderboard. "Can't believe I came last. Last! Last!" He thought to himself as he walked in. The room was no longer empty.
Two of his roommates had arrived. The first was an immense presence, both physically and spatially. He was the one from the sim, Mateo, who had clocked 15:02. He sat on a lower bunk that seemed to groan in protest under his weight, meticulously arranging a row of protein bars on his bedside table. He had the broad, stoic face of a classical statue and shoulders that looked like they could hold up the entire Crucible. Well...not literally. He glanced up as Lex entered, his expression unreadable, then gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod before returning to his task.
The other was a whirlwind of energy. He was bouncing a tennis ball against the far wall, his body a coiled spring of motion. He had close-cropped hair and a sharp, mischievous grin.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" the boy announced in a distinct, sharp-edged British accent—Cockney, probably East London—catching the ball without looking as it ricocheted back. "The Chip Guy! Mate, that was properly audacious. Dumb as a box of frogs, but absolutely brilliant! Had me in stitches!"
Lex blinked, his rehearsed bravado momentarily stunned into silence. The grin on his face faltered, becoming genuine in its confusion. "The… Chip Guy?"
"The lob! Against the bleeding Centauri sim! Saw it on the monitor in the hall. Everyone did. You're famous. Or infamous. Bit of both, I reckon." He bounded over with an effortless grace and stuck out his hand. "Remy. Midfield menace, wizard of the dribble, purveyor of pinpoint passes, and according to my dear mum, a 'constant source of disappointment.' Pleasure."
Lex shook his hand, the firm grip and infectious energy pulling a real, unforced smile onto his face. "Lex."
"Lex. Right. Short for something posh? Alexander? Lexicon?" Remy didn't wait for an answer, turning and jabbing a thumb at their larger roommate. "And that brooding mountain of muscle and silent judgment over there is Mateo. Best young defender in Italy, don't let his gentle giant act fool you. He'll eat strikers for breakfast, spit out the cleats, and politely ask for seconds. Oh, and there's a third guy, some quiet Asian bloke, but he's not back from his medical eval yet. Probably getting tested for a pulse."
Lex, overwhelmed by how fast Remy talks, raised his hand. "Uh, slowdown a bit."
Mateo looked up at the mention of his name. He said something in rapid, melodic Italian, his voice a low rumble.
"No idea, big man," Remy said with an exaggerated shrug. "You know I don't speak-a the language. Besides 'pizza,' 'calcio,' and 'mamma mia!'... my linguistic skills are tragically limited to the beautiful game and takeaway orders."
Mateo sighed, clearly used to this. He pointed a finger at Lex, then made a gentle arcing motion with his hand, followed by a solid thumbs-up. The meaning was crystal clear.
"Ooooohhh! See?" Remy translated entirely needlessly, his grin widening. "He liked it too. Thinks you've got stones on you. Or that you're completely mental. Again, bit of both."
"Your translation sounds off, to me." Lex folded his arms.
Just then, the dorm door slid open again. A lean, composed boy with dark, calm eyes entered. He moved with calculated calm of motion that was the complete opposite of Remy's hyper energy. His gaze swept the room, taking in each of them with a single, calculating glance, his eyes half-lidded as if he were conserving energy for more important thoughts. This was the Japanese boy from the scrimmage that Lex saw, the one with the blurring feet.
"Ah, and the band is complete!" Remy announced, never one to let a silence linger. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear. This is Kenji. Saw him on the pitch earlier. Feet like bloody magic. Don't think he speaks a word of the Queen's though." Remy turned to Kenji and began speaking slowly and loudly, as if addressing someone very old. "I! AM! REMY! THIS! IS! LEX! THE! CHIP! GUY! AND! THAT! IS! MATEO!"
Kenji's expression didn't change. He gave a slight, polite bow of his head, his eyes lingering on Lex for a half-second longer, as if filing him away in a mental database.
The four of them stood in a slightly awkward silence, a tower of Babel in a dorm room. Mateo muttered something in Italian. Remy cracked a joke in English that nobody else understood, except for Lex. Kenji remained silent.
BZZZT.
A sharp, automated chime echoed from a speaker in the ceiling. A synthesized female voice, the same one from Lex's AI guide, filled the room.
"Candidates. Integration protocol initiated. Please locate the storage panel on the wall adjacent to your bunks. It will open to your registered palm print. Retrieve your assigned equipment."
They all looked. On the wall between the sets of bunk beds was a seamless, metallic panel none of them had noticed. Lex placed his palm against it. With a soft hiss, it slid open, revealing four small, recessed shelves. On each sat a single, sleek device that looked like a minimalist, metallic ear pod.
"The device is a real-time neural translation interface," the voice continued. "Once inserted, it will instantly translate spoken language into your primary tongue. This is not a suggestion. It is a necessary tool for cohesion. Please insert now. Also note that the translation is not directly formal amd follows the individual way of speech when using the primary tongue. Again, please insert now."
Lex picked up the cool, smooth device. It felt weightless. He fitted it into his ear. It molded comfortably to his canal.
Remy was the first to speak, his mouth moving, but the words that reached Lex's ear were perfectly clear English. "—blimey, that's cold! Right, can everyone understand me now?"
Mateo's eyes widened in surprise. He spoke, and this time, his deep rumble was perfectly translated. "Sì, I can understand you. This is… incredible."
They all turned to Kenji, who had also inserted the device. He looked at each of them, his calculating eyes now sparkling with a hint of amusement. He spoke, his Japanese flowing smoothly, but what Lex heard was perfectly accented English. "The technology is impressive. It processes syntax and intent, not just words. A significant advantage both on and off the pitch."
The barrier shattered. The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Right then!" Remy said, clapping his hands together, his energy now unfettered. "Now that we're all on the same page, proper introductions are in order! I'm Remy, from a proper football factory in East London. I'm here because I'm gloriously, terminally annoying to play against, I never, ever give the ball away, and my through passes are things of beauty. Well... I almost never give the ball away. The beauty part is non-negotiable though."
"I am Mateo," the big Italian said, a small, genuine smile finally touching his lips. "From Milano. I am here because I do not like to lose. And I do not like it when opponents score."
"Kenji. Osaka," Kenji said, his voice quiet but precise, each word chosen with care. "I am here to solve puzzles. Football is simply one of the most complex, dynamic, and beautiful puzzles there is. I enjoy deconstructing systems and finding the most efficient path to a solution."
All eyes turned to Lex. He felt the weight of their gazes—the brute-force defender, the technical wizard, the tactical genius. And him.
He took a breath, the same fierce grin from the locker room returning. "Lex. Small town you've never heard of in Australia. I'm here because they have everything." He pointed at his ear. "But they don't have one of these for stupid. And that's my specialty."
Remy burst out laughing. Mateo chuckled, a deep, heavy sound. Even Kenji allowed a faint, approving smile to grace his features.
The four pillars of Dorm 7B were in place. The wild card, the wall, the engine, and the brain.
The game within the game had just begun.