The Executive Viewing Suite at InfoSys headquarters resembled a luxury theater more than a monitoring station. Plush seating arranged in tiered rows faced a wall-sized screen currently dispying a desert ndscape from multiple angles. Smaller dispys around the perimeter showed various data metrics, pyer statistics, and alternative viewing feeds.

  Marcus Voss sat in the center of the front row, his posture perfect despite the comfort the chair offered. His expression remained neutral as he studied the main screen, where his sons explored the oasis community on Floor 11.

  "Audience engagement is up twelve percent since yesterday," said Eliza Chen, InfoSys CEO, taking the seat beside him. She gestured to one of the side dispys showing viewer metrics. "The Voss twins are becoming quite the sensation."

  "As expected," Marcus replied without taking his eyes off the screen. He watched Alexander interact with the oasis community leaders, noting his son's diplomatic restraint despite obvious discomfort with their philosophy. "Have we edited out most of their encounters with the deserters?"

  "We're calling them 'The Oasis Community' in the public feeds," said Production Director Jansen from his position at the control console. "And yes, we've significantly cut that footage. We're showing them receiving water and rest, nothing about the community's philosophy."

  "Good." Marcus nodded slightly. "The st thing we need is to broadcast alternative lifestyle models. The Game has a purpose."

  On screen, Alexander was engaged in conversation with the oasis community leaders, his posture revealing subtle tension. The camera angles shifted to capture his commanding presence, occasionally cutting to footage of him eliminating sand stalkers during their journey to the oasis, spliced in to maintain the action-oriented narrative the viewers expected.

  "The combat sequences are testing exceptionally well with Architect and Privileged viewers," Jansen noted, maniputing the feeds to highlight a particurly impressive maneuver. "We're emphasizing Alexander's leadership qualities and combat prowess. The editing team has compiled a highlight reel of his best moments for the weekly recap."

  "And Elijah?" Marcus asked, his tone carefully neutral.

  "We're positioning him as the intellectual counterpart—the strategic mind behind Alexander's physical prowess. It creates a compelling narrative dynamic."

  Marcus made a noncommittal sound, watching as the camera panned to Elijah consulting a materialized text about desert navigation while conferring with Lyra about their route. The neural interface library access wasn't visible to external viewers; it appeared as if he were reading a physical book that had been packed with their supplies.

  "What about the Unaligned girl?" Marcus asked. "Her presence continues to be... unexpected."

  "Very popur with Worker-css viewers," Eliza said, checking a demographic breakdown on her personal dispy. "They respond well to the 'rising from nothing' narrative. We're emphasizing her technical contributions without drawing too much attention to her... unauthorized modifications."

  Marcus frowned slightly. "Be careful with that narrative. Advancement should appear possible but exceptional. We don't want to oversell the probability of an Unaligned reaching higher floors."

  "Of course," Jansen agreed smoothly. "We present her as the exception that proves the rule. A statistical anomaly that makes the system appear more meritocratic without threatening the established order."

  On the screen, Lyra had constructed a makeshift shelter against an approaching sandstorm, her movements quick and efficient. The cameras lingered on her focused expression as she worked, then cut to reaction shots from the twins—Alexander's grudging approval, Elijah's more open appreciation.

  "Cut that sequence," Marcus ordered suddenly.

  Jansen looked up in surprise. "Sir?"

  "The Unaligned girl's interaction with Elijah. Cut it from the public feed."

  "But it's testing well with focus groups—the personal connection elements increase viewer investment—"

  "I said cut it," Marcus repeated, his tone allowing no further discussion.

  Jansen nodded quickly, making a note on his console. "Of course, sir. We'll emphasize the technical contribution without the personal element."

  "The other team members?" Eliza inquired, smoothly changing the subject.

  "Background characters at this point," Jansen replied with a dismissive wave. "The security specialist—Tullian—tests well with military-adjacent viewers. The technical girl—Riva—barely registers in audience response. And Valeria..."

  "Valeria is performing her assigned function," Marcus interrupted. "Her role is not for public consumption."

  "Of course," Jansen agreed. "We've minimized her screen time in the public feeds."

  A side door opened, and Helena Voss entered the viewing suite. Unlike the corporate executives in their formal attire, she wore a boratory coat over simple but elegant clothing. Her presence immediately shifted the atmosphere in the room, several executives straightening unconsciously in their seats.

  "Helena," Marcus acknowledged without turning. "I didn't expect you to join the viewing session today."

  "I had a break between research phases," she replied, taking a seat beside him. Her eyes immediately went to the main screen, scanning the footage with an intensity that matched her husband's. "How are they progressing?"

  "On schedule," Marcus answered. "Alexander shows particur promise in combat situations. His leadership metrics exceed projections."

  Helena watched as the camera followed Elijah consulting his materialized library texts again. Unlike the public viewers, she could see the neural interface activation patterns through her specialized access. "And Elijah's research patterns?"

  "Unconventional," Marcus admitted with the slightest edge to his voice. "He's accessing philosophical and sociological texts at a higher rate than anticipated."

  "Intellectual curiosity should be encouraged," Helena remarked mildly, though something in her tone suggested this was a long-standing point of contention.

  Before Marcus could respond, the production director spoke up. "We have the engagement numbers for yesterday's quota fulfillment sequence. Highest viewership spike of the week."

  "Show me," Marcus ordered.

  The main screen shifted to footage from the previous day—Alexander leading a coordinated attack against a rival team that had been hunting weaker pyers. The camera work was impeccable, capturing the fluidity of movement, the tactical precision, the moment of victory. The footage had been expertly edited to emphasize the skill involved while minimizing the graphic nature of the kills.

  "We've added this to the highlight package," Jansen said. "The audience responds particurly well to justified violence—when our protagonists eliminate pyers who are themselves predatory."

  "It allows viewers to enjoy the spectacle without moral discomfort," Eliza added. "Very clean narrative dynamics."

  Helena's expression remained neutral, but her eyes narrowed slightly at the casualness with which they discussed the deaths. Marcus noticed her reaction.

  "The quota system serves its purpose," he said quietly. "Popution management with entertainment value. Efficiency."

  "Of course," Helena agreed, her tone revealing nothing of her true thoughts. "And the consciousness preservation metrics?"

  A momentary tension filled the room at her question. The consciousness preservation aspect of the Game was not discussed in public broadcasts—official documentation mentioned only that failed pyers were "removed from the Game environment."

  "Operating within expected parameters," Eliza answered after a slight pause. "The test batch of preserved consciousnesses has been integrated into the computational network with a ninety-seven percent efficiency rate."

  Helena nodded, returning her attention to the main screen where their sons continued their journey across the desert.

  "The Mirage Labyrinth sequence is coming up," Jansen noted, changing the subject. "Early testing suggests it will be a highlight of this week's broadcast. We have specialty camera units positioned throughout to capture the most compelling angles."

  On screen, the team approached the shimmering entrance to the byrinth, heat distortion creating the illusion that the very air was melting around them. The cameras panned dramatically across the structure, emphasizing its disorienting nature.

  "We've prepared special effects enhancements for the broadcast version," Jansen continued, pulling up a demonstration on a side screen. "The public feed will include visualization overys to help viewers understand the spatial distortions. Makes for more engaging viewing when the audience can partially comprehend what the pyers are experiencing."

  "And the fatality projections for this byrinth?" Marcus asked.

  "Approximately thirty-eight percent of teams that enter," replied an analyst from the second row. "Primarily lower-css pyers without adequate preparation or equipment."

  Marcus nodded, seemingly satisfied with this figure. "Acceptable attrition rate."

  Helena's hands tightened slightly in her p, but her expression remained composed. "The boys appear to be well-prepared," she observed. "Elijah's research into mirage phenomena should prove valuable."

  "Yes," Marcus agreed. "Alexander's combat skills will only take them so far. The byrinths are designed to require diverse capabilities." He didn't quite manage to keep a note of grudging acknowledgment from his voice.

  "We're seeing significant social media engagement around their approach to the byrinth," said a marketing executive, checking a data feed. "Specution about their strategy, fan theories about what challenges they'll face. The twins have dedicated viewer groups analyzing their every move."

  "The merchandise opportunities are expanding rapidly," added another executive. "The production team has already approved action figure prototypes based on their Game appearances. Alexander's combat gear variant is projected to be our top seller next quarter."

  "Ensure the licensing agreements are properly structured," Marcus instructed. "Standard personality rights provisions. All revenue flows through VitaCore's entertainment division."

  The casual commodification of their sons didn't seem to disturb either parent, both well-accustomed to the corporate machinery that turned everything—even family—into product.

  Jansen's console chimed with an alert. "Sir, we have a decision point approaching. Alexander appears to be considering the community leader's invitation to extend their stay versus continuing their journey tomorrow."

  "Standard enhancement package?" Marcus asked.

  "We can implement the heroic decision matrix," Jansen confirmed. "Dramatic music, tension-building camera work, emphasis on the risk-reward calcution. Viewers respond well to bold choices, regardless of outcome."

  "Proceed," Marcus authorized. "Either approach will be instructive. Staying demonstrates tactical flexibility, leaving emphasizes dedication to advancement. Both make compelling viewing."

  On screen, Alexander studied the oasis leader's expression, conferring with his team. The cameras captured his expression in perfect detail—the calcution in his eyes, the subtle tension in his jaw, the momentary gnce toward his brother seeking confirmation.

  "Interesting," Helena murmured. "He's actually consulting with Elijah and the Unaligned girl before making his decision."

  "A concerning development," Marcus noted. "His leadership training emphasized decisive autonomous action, not consensus building."

  "Or perhaps he's recognizing the value of diverse perspective," Helena countered. "A sophisticated leadership approach."

  "We can edit the consultation sequence to emphasize his decisive moment rather than the team input," Jansen offered quickly, sensing the tension between the executives.

  "Do so," Marcus confirmed. "The narrative should reinforce proper hierarchy."

  The production team worked quickly, maniputing camera angles and editing sequences in real-time to shape the story being told. What viewers would see would bear only a partial resembnce to what was actually happening in the Game—a carefully constructed narrative designed to reinforce corporate values and entertain the masses.

  "We should consider a special broadcast feature on the twins' background," suggested the marketing executive. "Humanizing content about their preparation, family legacy, the expectations they carry. Viewers connect more deeply with protagonists they feel they understand."

  "Limited personal details only," Marcus specified. "Focus on their VitaCore heritage, the expectations of excellence, the legacy they're building upon. Nothing about specific training methods or advantages."

  "Of course," the executive agreed. "Just enough to build audience investment without revealing proprietary approaches."

  Helena watched this exchange with a carefully neutral expression, though her eyes returned frequently to Elijah on the screen. He had manifested another text from his neural interface library, studying it intently as he engaged with the community elders about their philosophy.

  "Viewership is spiking again," noted an analyst. "We're reaching record numbers for a Floor 11 sequence. The twins are officially our most-watched pyers this quarter."

  "Ensure the highlight packages are distributed across all viewing ptforms," Eliza instructed. "Priority pcement in Worker dormitory feeds. The Game should remain visible as both aspiration and entertainment."

  "And the uncensored analytics?" Marcus asked quietly, referring to the true statistics of Game progression and mortality.

  "Restricted to Architect-level access as always," Eliza confirmed. "Public feeds continue to show the modified success rates and sanitized outcomes."

  Helena rose suddenly. "I should return to my boratory. The neural interface adjustments for next quarter's entry cohort require my attention."

  Marcus gnced up at her. "You'll want to see the byrinth sequence. Initial data suggests it will be quite revealing of their capabilities."

  "I'll review the footage ter," Helena replied. "I have the benefit of unfiltered access, after all." Something in her tone suggested this was not merely a reference to viewing privileges.

  As she left, the room returned its attention to the main screen, where Alexander had reached a decision. He was politely but firmly expining to the community leaders that the team would be departing in the morning. The production team was already enhancing the sequence—adjusting lighting to create more dramatic shadows, adding subtle sound effects to increase tension, selecting the most fttering angles for each team member.

  "This will make excellent viewing," Jansen said with satisfaction. "The Amber Realm sequences always test well with audiences. Something about the harsh environment brings out compelling survival narratives."

  "Just ensure the narrative remains on message," Marcus reminded him. "The Game must represent the proper values. Advancement through merit. Leadership through strength. The natural order of css and capability."

  "Of course, sir," Jansen confirmed. "We tell the story the way it's meant to be told."

  On the screen, Alexander diplomatically concluded his conversation with the oasis leaders, the cameras following his movement with perfect dramatic timing as he rejoined his team to discuss their departure pns. For the executives watching, they were not people facing genuine danger but characters in an ongoing entertainment product—their struggles, their growth, even their potential deaths nothing more than content to be packaged and consumed.

  In that moment, as he watched his sons dispyed on the massive screen, Marcus Voss's expression betrayed the slightest hint of pride—not for their courage or capabilities, but for how perfectly they were performing their assigned roles in the greater design of the Game.