The lights from the host’s eyes turn to me and I swear I can see agony buried deep down in there.

We exit into the eerily silent corridor and make our way to the great hall.

Galen waits behind a podium; his three-dimensional projection stands an unnecessary fifty feet tall. The seats are filled with Alts, all sitting in silence. They turn to face me and watch as I walk down the center aisle. Galen stands on the stage, smiling down at me.

I climb the steps and stand in the middle of the raised podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Galen says, his voice the tone of a circus ringmaster’s, “today is a very special day. I’m sure all of you recognize the young man who stands before us. This is the great Luka Kane.”

Derisory laughter and jeers come from the crowd.

“How dare you laugh?” Galen asks, his voice lowering to a growl. “I say that with not a hint of jest. This remarkable boy, only sixteen years of age, has outsmarted us, broken free of our prisons, avoided capture, and inspired a rebellion. How many here could say they were capable of the same? We must not look down upon the accomplishments of others simply because we do not share the same aspirations.”

I look around at the crowd. At least a dozen drones hover above their heads, some moving around me, recording me, projecting my image across the empty city for all to see, onto Lenses, SoCom units, screens, Barker Projectors. These images will eventually be seen by Kina, Igby, Molly, Pander, everyone who is still alive.

“This day is a historic one!” Galen projects, getting into his role now. “This day will go down in Earth’s new history! This day will be remembered forever as the day the fighting came to an end!”

Happy lets you out of the box for one morning and you really make the most of it, I think, rolling my eyes at Galen’s dramatics.

“But enough from me,” Galen says, stretching a hand out and gesturing toward me. “We are not gathered here to listen to my words. Luka, if you would?”

Galen steps back from the podium, his fifty-foot effigy moving simultaneously with him.

I step forward, moving slowly up to the microphone. I turn around to see that Galen’s gigantic image has been replaced by my own.

You’re supposed to talk, I think, the words in my head coming through in Maddox’s voice.