Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume5 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 2===

The Technopics were held in Olympia Dome, a giant man-made island floating in almost the very center of the Atlantic Ocean.

The man-made island was not created by filling in land to expand an already existing natural island. It was instead created entirely out of giant floats. When a man-made island was given independence, it was not required to stay in one single place. Most of those islands slowly followed the currents through international waters on the seven seas.

Due to global warming and rising sea levels, there had been a temporary rush to create that kind of man-made island. Weixing Taiwan, Second Venice, and the New Ryukyu Islands were good examples. However, their maintenance costs were unexpectedly high, their diplomatic situation was fragile as they required resources to be shipped in from the continents, and the recovery speed of city functions after an emergency was quite low. These problems were all discovered after their creation and so they had gone out of fashion.

Olympia Dome had a giant dome 20 kilometers across as the main central stadium. The 10 kilometers around it contained the harbor, airport, lodging facilities, and everything else required for the island to function. For this reason, its shape was often likened to a fried egg.

That giant fried egg circulated around the Atlantic Ocean with a cycle of about 2 years.

Mariydi and the other participants in the women’s shootathlon were gathered at one end of the circular dome. The event for the first day was to run for 25 kilometers along the wall while stopping at 3 places along the way to perform sharpshooting.

She could hear Alicia’s sharp voice over a pen-cap-sized piezoelectric receiver attached to her ear.

“The final results of the shootathlon are based on an average of the scores from the three days, but your results on the first day determine your starting point on the second day. To be blunt, the better a lead you gain here, the easier things will be later.”

“We’re running 20 or 30 kilometers, so I don’t think starting a dozen meters or so back is going to make that much of a difference,” replied Mariydi in annoyance. “Also, the shootathlon is about shooting as well as running.”

She glanced around and estimated there were over 100 female athletes gathered. The starting line looked like it had a higher population density than the entrance to a department store before a big sale.

Capitalist Corporations, Information Alliance, Legitimacy Kingdom, Faith Organization.

It was a strange feeling to have so many people from different world powers gathered in one place.

Some of the uniforms were full-body suits like Mariydi’s, but more standard running outfits with a separate top and bottom were common as well. Some wore large boots that extended all the way up to the thighs. Those seemed ill suited for running at first glance, but they likely contained fiber springs that thoroughly increased the wearer’s leg strength.

The great amount of variation was likely due to the fact that these were women’s uniforms. From a moral standpoint, women’s uniforms had to cover more of the body which made them harder to optimize than men’s uniforms.

However, this provided a more florid visual display and the designers went beyond simple athletic ability and designed the uniforms to have sex appeal as a form of advertisement. (The sponsor companies’ names were printed on the uniforms.) In some ways, this almost seemed to actually work against the original purpose of the uniforms.

A female announcer’s voice cut in on all of their piezoelectric receivers.

“Day one of the women’s shootathlon begins in ten minutes. All participants are to move to their marks.”

(If they’re going to divide it up by sex, I wish they would divide it up by age, too.)

Perhaps in an attempt to apply pressure, a nearby older Information Alliance woman half-jokingly aimed her rifle at Mariydi. Mariydi ignored her and walked a few meters to the left. As the other woman moved along while peering through her scope, she did not realize she had walked right in front of a camera.

That was just how sports were.

Regulars on the same team would constantly try to trip each other up and athletes would taunt each other in what they called psychological attacks. Mariydi wanted to vomit every time she heard someone use the word “sportsmanship”. She felt the soldiers on the battlefield who silently exchanged fire were much more sincere.

She then heard an ally’s voice come in over the piezoelectric receiver on her ear.

It was from the pharmacist named Stacy.

“If you have the time, get an autograph for me. I hear Erie Greenhat’s is quite valuable.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to follow the current fads. As an athletics expert, I would have thought you would be used to being around athletes.”

“I find more value in my job if I have a personal objective in it. A collector’s spirit works well for that.”

The bodyguard must have been listening in from next to Stacy, because he cut in.

“Do you have one from our prized athlete yet? If not, she might get a little sulky.”

“I will get one from Mariydi-chan once she proves herself with some results.”

“Say whatever you like,” spat out Mariydi.

Meanwhile, the time drew near.

“One more minute.”

She listened to the announcement with a yawn.

Soon thereafter, the starter pistol was fired.

The large group began running all at once like water flowing out of a container that had its cap removed. Mariydi went with that flow. Mariydi moved her legs in a rhythm as she felt a tension unlike that of an all-out sprint. It felt more like attempting to stop a stopwatch at exactly 10 seconds without looking.

She heard Alicia’s stiff voice over her piezoelectric receiver.

“Your sponsor is watching. Please keep within the leading group.”

“Are you stupid?”

Mariydi gave no explanation for her short response.

She could have rushed up into first place, but doing so was meaningless.

(Dammit. This reminds me of my training in the Northern European Restricted Zone when they had us running around the base again and again and again before we were given any breakfast.)

Her 12 year old appearance made it hard to imagine, but Mariydi was actually a fighter pilot. A pilot had to be able to precisely operate her aircraft while experiencing pressures over 9 times that of Earth’s gravity, so she had needed a body tougher than that of a foot soldier who carried a gun through the hills.

The main difference between the race and her training was that she could not simply match the others’ pace.

The trick was to keep her own pace the entire time. To continue with the stopwatch example, she had to continue to trust her internal clock while ignoring the surrounding noise. If she did not do that, her stamina would not last.

As such, she had to be aware of the movements of those around her while at the same time ensuring that she did not begin moving more quickly as she was drawn into their pace.

“All the jiggling going on around you is kind of pissing me off.”

“Unless you’re going to help me keep my pace, I’m going to cut off your transmission,” replied Mariydi.

“That sort of thing can actually be used to gather focus from the cameras. Now, we can’t expect that from you, but you may be able to use a different tactic. In addition to simply getting good results, I suggest you create some drama.”

“You mean like pretending to be suffering?”

“This is the Technopics. Gaining 10 seconds of coverage on a single station is the same as a 30,000 dollar advertisement. And each place you move up in the ranks is another 30%.”

“I would be quite the laughingstock if I thought too much about that and ended up falling down in the ranks.”

Eighteen minutes passed as she chatted.

As she arrived at the first shooting point, Mariydi’s breathing was as regulated as if she was speaking on the phone in a café.

The point was located 7 kilometers from the starting line. A carpet several dozen meters long was spread out across the asphalt. A line of human-shaped targets was set up parallel to but 200 meters away from the carpet. The targets were set up on metal rails and moved about randomly.

The shooting point doubled as a water stop.

The athletes in the leading group had already grabbed their own drinks and were lying prone atop the carpet while holding their sniper rifles.

Mariydi glanced over at them and said, “How elegant. Are they enjoying a vacation?”

She remained standing.

She held up her sniper rifle while continuing to run at the same speed as the rest of the race.

Instead of holding her breath and firing one shot at a time, she pulled the trigger again and again in semi-auto mode.

A string of gunshots rang out.

Mariydi Whitewitch accurately fired a bullet through the head and chest of every single human-shaped target.

Her hands were so steady because of the stamina she had preserved over the first leg of the race with the intentional regulation of her pace.

However, her simple skill as a sharpshooter also played a large role.

“That should do it.”

As the other athletes looked on in shock, Mariydi continued on to the next leg of the race without taking a drink.

“That managed to draw a lot of attention,” said Alicia.

However, she was not praising Mariydi.

“But that left it unclear whether it was due to the abilities of your sponsor’s new rifle or your personal skill. Try not to go too far overboard from now on.”

“Is that really how you cheer on the athlete that just rushed up to first place in an international sporting event?”

Mariydi sounded annoyed, but her pace did not change.

The old leading group was approaching with incredible force, but Mariydi did not up her pace in an attempt to keep them from overtaking her. Their efforts would only wear down their stamina and lower their shooting accuracy. They would not defeat her in the overall score.

In fact, Mariydi’s lead had made the old leading group destroy their pace and that would also likely make the others behind them wear down their stamina as well, so it all worked to Mariydi’s advantage.

(They’re sure to have their trainers and managers yelling at them over their piezoelectric receivers, but that isn’t enough to get your heart rate under control.)

“I’m glad they’re all so stupid. I guess this really is just a gathering of muscle-obsessed freaks.”

Mariydi was overtaken as she muttered that, but her expression did not change one bit.

She was in the best area.

Any lower and a good result would be out of reach. Any higher and she would run out of stamina and lose speed.

Without letting the apparent order lead her astray, Mariydi Whitewitch continued on towards an assured top-level score.