Split Infinity

Sheen got up and shook off the dust with a fascinating shimmy of her torso. “Can’t win them all,” she remarked, unperturbed.

She had made an excellent try, though! She had come closer than anyone in years. Stile watched her as she stripped off mask and shorts. She was stunningly beau-tiful—more so than before, because now he realized that her body was functional as well as shapely.

“You interest me,” he told her. In this aftermath of a good game he was flushed with positive feeling, his shy-ness at a minimum.

Sheen smiled. “I hoped to.”

“You almost beat me.”

“I had to get your attention somehow.”

Another player laughed. Stile had to laugh too.  Sheen had proved herself, and now he wanted to know why. The mutual experience had broken the ice; the discovery of a new challenge completed his transition from diffidence to normal masculine imperative.

He didn’t even have to invite her to come home with him. She was already on her way.

CHAPTER 2 - Sheen

Sheen moved into his apartment as if it were her own.

She punched the buttons of his console to order a complete light lunch of fruit salad, protein bread and blue wine.

“You evidently know about me,” Stile said as they ate. “But I know nothing of you. Why did you—want to get my attention?”

“I am a fan of the Game. I could be good at it. But I have so little time—only three years tenure remaining—I need instruction. From the best. From you. So I can be good enough—“

“To enter the Tourney,” Stile Enished. “I have the same time remaining. But there are others you could have checked. I am only tenth on my ladder—“

“Because you don’t want to have to enter the Tourney this year,” she said. “You won’t enter it until your last year of tenure, because all tenure ends when a serf enters the Tourney. But you could advance to Rung One on the Age-35 ladder any time you wished, and the top five places of each adult ladder are automatically entered in the—“

“Thank you for the information,” Stile said with gentle irony.

She overlooked it. “So you keep yourself in the second five, from year to year, low enough to be safe in case several of the top rungers break or try to vacate, high enough to be able to make your move any time you want to. You are in fact the most proficient Gamesman of our generation—“

“This is an exaggeration. I’m a jockey, not a—“

“—and I want to learn from you. I offer—“

“I can see what you offer,” Stile said, running his eyes over her body. He could do this now without embarrassment, because he had come to know her; his initial shyness was swinging to a complementary boldness. They had, after all, Gamed together. “Yet there is no way I could inculcate the breadth of skills required for serious competition, even if we had a century instead of a mere three years. Talent is inherent, and it has to be buttressed by constant application. I might be able to guide you to the fifth rung of your ladder—which one would that be?”

“Age 23 female.”

“You’re in luck. There are only three Tourney-caliber players on that ladder at present. With proper management it would be possible for a person of promise to take one of the remaining rungs. But though you gave me a good race on the Slide, I am not sure you have sufficient promise—and even if you qualified for the Tourney, your chances of progressing far in it would be vanishingly small. My chances are not good—which is why I’m still working hard at every opportunity to improve myself. Contrary to your opinion, there are half a dozen players better than I am, and another score of my general caliber. In any given year, four or five of them will enter the Tourney, while others rise in skills to renew the pool. That, combined with the vagaries of luck, gives me only one chance in ten to win. For you-“

“Oh, I have no illusions about winning!” she said.

“But if I could make a high enough rank to obtain extension of tenure, if only a year or two—“

“It’s a dream,” he assured her. “The Citizens put such prizes out as bait, but only one person in thirty-two gains even a year that way.”

“I would be completely grateful for that dream,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Stile was tempted. He knew he would not have access to a more attractive woman, and she had indeed shown promise in the Game. That athletic ability that had enabled her so blithely and lithely to change chutes would benefit her in many other types of competition.

He could have a very pleasant two years, training her.

Extremely pleasant.

That itself gave him caution. He had loved before, and lost, and it had taken years to recover completely —if he really had. Tune, he thought, with momentary nostalgia. There were ways in which Sheen resembled that former girl.