Model 10

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Chapter 3

"What? Are you insane? My Model hasn't lost yet and now you're asking me to go out into the Deadlands to go to Creator Nine's Center so the Model's can fight?!" He yelled at the screen in front of him. The soundwaves on the screen moved wildly up and down. He continued to walk down the hallway to Ten's room.

"You're overreacting. Other Creator's traveled through the Deadlands to come to your Center."

"That's because their Model's lost so they have to move, mine hasn't!"

"Your top bettor is going to be there, he wants to see Ten in action and he's not willing to move any more than he already has. Listen, get Model Ten into the conference room and we can discuss further details then. Until then, bye." Before Creator Ten could respond, the screen on his watch turned red before he was staring at soundwaves.

He pressed a button on his watch and the screen disappeared. As he did so he arrived at Ten's door. He scanned his watch and the door opened.

Ten was laying in her bed but wasn't asleep. She was lying flat on her back with her arms outstretched above her.

Her ring and pinky finger was pressed into her palm. Her middle and pointer finger was pressed together and were lying horizontally, facing each other. Her thumbs were in front of her middle and pointer finger and they moved in a circular motion. Her thumbs, middle, and pointer fingers were placed into blue holes. It looked like she was holding a controller. A screen was positioned above her hands and the first-person perspective of someone holding a gun could be made out. There was no color on the screen, except for blue.

Her middle fingers pressed down and her thumbs moved around in random directions.

When the light came into the room as her door was opened, she looked up and saw the Creator walking in. She quickly closed out of the game and sat up. She got on both knees and placed her hands behind her back and slightly bowed her head. The Creator sat down on the bed. He placed his hand on her head and removed it. She positioned herself to where she was sitting crisscrossed.

"Do you know anything about the Deadlands and how they got there?" The Creator asked.

"I know that it's where the poor live. I also know that there's just destroyed buildings and hardly any nature. As well as it got that way because the poor got tired of the way they were being treated so they revolted but the rich easily destroyed them and the city they lived in. So the rich built Centers in order to make sure that the poor weren't able to harm them."

"And why do you think they live there and we live in Centers?"

"Because they want to harm the rich."

"That's correct . . . And of course, you know you were made in order to protect me from them?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm glad that you know this because a small problem has arisen, but I've kept the council waiting long enough. Follow me," he said as he stood up from the bed. Ten stood up as well.

The Creator placed his hand on the back of her neck and led her towards the door. They walked out of the room and the Creator continued to lead her to the conference room.

They walked into the room and were greeted by five men and women. One of which was the Designer. There were two empty seats next to her. The Creator led Ten to the chairs.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen and women but I had to make sure my Model knew a few things."

"It's quite all right. However, we need to get to business."

"I think it's unfair that I have to move."

"This isn't about fair or unfair it's about money. How much did you make yesterday?"

"Ten million."

"Your top bettor has told us that he is willing to double what he bet last time, but only if you come to Nine's Center."

"Why Nine's Center?"

"Because the Pigs have reinforced their men between this Center and Nine's center. He thinks it's too much of a risk for him to move." Ten knew that Pigs was another word they used to describe the poor.

"So you're now expecting me to go through the reinforced area?"

"Yes, you have a Model who can protect you." There was a short pause.

"I don't need the money."

"Of course you do!"

"In the last two weeks, I've made over fifteen million dollars. That's only in the last two weeks! I haven't even gone back a month and I'm richer than all of you!"

"We'll stop funding you."

"I don't need the funding from you. I have enough money to do it myself."

"Oh, I think you do need the funding from us. I've heard rumors that a Model Eleven is being developed and is better than Ten."

"I can still use my money to improve her."

"We'll kick you out of this Center."

"You can't do that, I'm the one bringing in the money for you!"

"Creator Eleven is more than happy to stay here."

"After all, I've done for you! After all the money I've given you!"

"We think Creator Eleven can provide us with more money . . . Unless you get this money from your top bettor."

"Don't you have enough money?"

"No, you've depleted the majority of our money on your Model."

"Model Ten, please clarify for me what they're saying is true," the Creator said in a low tone.

Ten quickly grabbed one of the council men's arms, the one with the watch on it. Her eyes glossed over as she looked through the watch. The man struggled in her grasp, but her arm didn't budge. After a few seconds, Ten released his arm and looked at Creator Ten.

"They only have three hundred thousand."

The Creator closed his eyes and sighed as the Designer pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fine, we'll head out first thing tomorrow," the Creator said through gritted teeth.

"It looks like this meeting is over, good day." One of the men said as he stood up and walked out of the room.

"Model Ten."

"Yes, Sir?"

"We're going to go make sure everything is one-hundred percent with you," he said as he stood up. Ten stood up and he placed his hand behind her neck and led her out of the room.

He pulled up something on his watch.

"I want everything ready to make sure Model Ten is in prime condition."

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