Summary:
What games could captivate a society of organic, cybernetic, and robotic fairies who have mastered technology and eliminated scarcity? In “Circuit Clash Arena”, Eira and Celestia’s robotic jerboa fights and solves puzzles. Winning alone isn’t possible, but trusting opponents is risky. What’s the optimal strategy? The story explores game theory, the nature of trust, and why even an advanced civilisation still appreciates real-life competition rather than just virtual simulations.
The “Cyber Fairies” series is a collection of popular science fiction stories about robotic, cybernetic, and organic fairies living in futuristic domed cities on Elysia, a planet reminiscent of Mars. Explore philosophy and science with a touch of humour. As the series progresses, the fairies encounter diverse beings with entirely different value systems.
Cyberfairies 4—The Gladiator’s Dilemma
The northern city of Aurora gleamed like a pearl in the ice desert, its protective dome shielding fairy inhabitants from Elysia’s thin, freezing atmosphere. At its centre towered a colossal stadium named “Circuit Clash Arena” across its façade. This modern-day “Colosseum” had long since moved beyond the era of fighting gladiators and competing athletes—here, fairies tested their engineering prowess and programming skills by creating battle robots.
Though the morning sun had barely touched the stadium’s metallic surface, winged spectators were already flocking to their seats. One might question their eagerness—after all, cybernetic and robotic fairies could tune into the broadcast anywhere on the planet and watch the show on their internal screens, while their organic sisters could watch via volumetric displays. Yet tradition held strong, drawing fairies back to the stands time after time to share in their favourite teams’ triumphs.
For now, a round, opaque protective shell concealed the arena from prying eyes, its surface alive with shimmering patterns and highlights from past tournaments. Mechanical bees buzzed through the stadium, capturing every sight and sound. As the crowd settled and the excited chatter subsided, the lights dimmed. To the familiar strains of ceremonial music, the hosts took their positions, hovering above the concealed arena’s centre.
“Welcome to Circuit Clash Arena, everyone! I’m Linnea,” announced the organic fairy, her white wings complementing her amber dress and long golden-red ponytail.
“...And Binaria,” added her co-host, a robotic fairy whose blue wings matched her sleek silver-blue frame of polished metal. Despite her mechanical nature, her face bore the same natural appearance as any organic fairy. As the spotlights played across her metallic form, she smiled and continued, “Today’s show is special! We’re welcoming newcomers to the arena—green as ancient circuit boards, these fledgling recruits have barely grasped the basics of engineering and are pinning their hopes on luck.”
“They’ll need every bit of it!” Linnea said with a cheerful wave toward the six competitor booths. Adjusting her retinal projector glasses, she added, “Now, let’s review the ground rules. While our gladiators are autonomous robots, they operate without full consciousness.”
“Thank goodness for that,” the blue-haired Binaria nodded. “I wouldn’t fancy suddenly finding myself in the arena with no way to file workplace complaints!”
Laughter rippled through the stands. Linnea joined in before explaining, “That’s exactly why we cap the robots’ memory at three terabytes—enough for their language models, image recognition systems, sound analysers, and neuromorphic processors.”
“A processor that size,” Binaria smirked, “might just manage to hold the consciousness of a Flat-Elysian sect fairy.”
“Let’s keep that experiment off the air!” Linnea feigned alarm, drawing more giggles from the audience.
Their playful banter continued as they introduced the participants—each team comprising one organic and one cybernetic fairy.
“And finally, joining us from the southern capital, Celestia and Eira!”
“Straight from Solaris! Let’s hope they’re enjoying our provincial frost,” Binaria quipped.
The camera bees swooped in on the capital’s team. Celestia, a cybernetic fairy, came into focus first. Her chestnut hair was elegantly styled in an updo with two soft locks framing her naturally lovely face. As she waved to the crowd, her blue wings caught the light, and her green eyes sparkled with creative energy. True to her reputation as the capital’s fashionista, she wore her trademark silver suit adorned with floral patterns and a white leaf-shaped skirt.
At the control panel beside her sat Eira, whose emerald-green jumpsuit and carelessly braided bright red hair spoke of a more practical nature. Her folded white wings trembled slightly with unease, but her bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“And now,” Linnea announced, “the moment you’ve all been waiting for—today’s arena!”
With a gentle hum, the shell turned transparent, revealing a microscopic wonderland that drew gasps from the amazed spectators. Giant spheres pulsed and glowed, representing atomic structures. Cell organelles drifted through gelatinous cytoplasm while spiralling DNA chains created mesmerising patterns. Hidden in caves and labyrinths of protein chains, praetorian robots lurked in the guise of viruses and bacteria, waiting to challenge the contestants.
“Teams,” Binaria raised her hand, “you have five minutes to vaccinate your robots against misfortune before we begin...”
“Circuit Clash Arena!” the hosts exclaimed in unison as countdown numbers flashed across the screens.
At their control panel, Eira and Celestia huddled over a rotating three-dimensional model of their battle robot.
“Look!” Celestia pointed to the map. “The southern labyrinth poses a challenge for our jerboa for our jerboa. Should we reconsider the flying design?”
Eira studied the arena spread out below them. The southern labyrinth was clearly visible from their vantage point.
“Hold on. See that tardigrade? Its net launcher will bring down any flyer.” She pulled up a volumetric display showing a polygonal sphere on wheels. “Here’s an alternative. Two plasma torches will make short work of those anti-aircraft nets. We can retract the wheels and roll through the labyrinth at full speed.”
“This ball is so bulky!” Celestia protested. “Might as well paint a target on it.”
“Give it a chance! It’s more agile than you think. Take a look at the northern labyrinth. That bacteriophage has a rapid-fire arrow launcher. Trust me—I’m speaking as an engineer here—legs are a massive vulnerability. One hit, and our robot’s crippled. But wheels are reliable, and they’ll shrug off twenty arrows easily.”
As Celestia defended the original design with its powerful legs, she couldn’t help but think how right Dr Violetta had been. Eira was like a new fairy—no trace remained of her despair or thoughts of ending it all due to feeling obsolete.
After some friendly sparring, they kept the jerboa design but swapped the second laser cutter for a repair kit.
“Time’s running out! What about behaviour? Keep it as is?” Celestia hastily pulled up the algorithmic displays.
“Let’s make it avoid direct confrontation and trust no one. While the others are fighting, our little long-tail can solve all the puzzles and win on points.”
Celestia nodded, fingers flying over the behavioural module. She’d barely finished when Linnea called out:
“Time’s up! Let’s see what you’ve all created.”
The audience watched in wonder as the assembly lines sprang to life. A ballet of mechanical manipulators, welding arms, furnaces, vacuum chambers, and chemical sprayers worked in perfect synchronisation. Within moments, the battle robots—including their beige metallic jerboa bearing the number six—were moving along conveyor belts toward the arena, primed for combat and puzzle-solving.
“Remember!” Binaria raised a finger. “If your gladiator is destroyed, you can only recreate it twice. Three lives in total. Use them wisely!”
Electronic music filled the air as the drumbeat intensified. Six gates around the arena opened, releasing the battle robots into the field.
“And... begin!” Linnea announced. “My word! Look at Iris and Nova’s heavyweight! Who knew a tracked crab could move with such speed!”
“And how neatly it scorched that passing mantis with its flamethrower,” Binaria added with relish. “The heavyweight scores the first damage—minor but still worth fifteen points!”
The crab-like gladiator brandished its claws and thundered into another sector, tracks churning through the decorative cytoplasm. Unlike their jerboa with number six, this bruiser clearly meant to steamroll the competition rather than solve puzzles. True to its programming, the jerboa avoided other contestants and kept to the arena’s periphery, its long ears constantly twitching as they scanned for danger.
“Such cautious tactics!” Linnea mused. “Are Celestia and Eira really from the capital?”
The jerboa crouched at the labyrinth entrance when it spotted the hulking brown mass of a praetorian disguised as a tardigrade—a hulking brown mass with stubby legs and an unsettling bear-like insectoid face. Worse still, net launcher nozzles bristled across its body.
Then, the jerboa had a flash of inspiration. Instead of targeting the tardigrade, it aimed its laser cutter at the decorative atomic lattices nearby. The resulting cascade of sparks and thunderous crash drew the labyrinth guardian away to investigate. Clearly, the show’s creators had deliberately dulled the praetorians’ alertness somewhat—otherwise, the competition would have been rather one-sided.
“Well done, my little genius!” Eira beamed as the jerboa slipped past the tardigrade and reached the puzzle screen. Celestia nodded happily, but her smile quickly vanished.
“Oh no—it’s a protein folding problem!” The screen displayed writhing chains of amino acids awaiting arrangement into their correct three-dimensional structure.
“Well, well!” Binaria feigned dismay. “Gladiator number six is like a student who’s wandered into an exam without revising. Apparently, our guests didn’t upload a biochemistry course despite today’s microworld theme. Oh my—the angry professor’s coming back to check on our student!”
Indeed, the tardigrade was already turning to investigate. Reluctantly, Celestia gave the jerboa a direct command: “Cancel! Find an easier puzzle!” The scoreboard immediately flashed minus five points as their robo-rodent abandoned the screen, dodged a net whistling past its ear, and fled the labyrinth—only to face a new threat. A metallic squirrel armed with razor-sharp claws pounced at the exit. The jerboa leapt aside as if scalded, but the squirrel pursued, sending both gladiators tumbling across the ground.
Fortune smiled at their mishap—the robots fell through a hidden entrance, a heavy door thundering shut behind them. The chamber’s wall displayed a truth table alongside logical components that needed connecting to match the pattern.
“Now, this is a twist!” Linnea clapped in delight. “Beginner’s luck strikes again—they’ve stumbled into the secret chamber with the Gladiator’s Dilemma!”
“If they cooperate,” her blue-eyed colleague explained, “each earns two hundred points. But if one betrays the other, the traitor claims three hundred! What will they choose?”
Nearly all eyes in the audience focused on the scene unfolding within the chamber, but a TV show—even on a planet of cyberfairies—waits for no one. Electrolyte began seeping from several pipes, slowly flooding the floor. Even for a robot with three terabytes of memory, it was clear that time was running out.
“Let’s form an alliance!” the squirrel squeaked, connecting the first logic elements. “Two hundred points each guarantees us both prize positions.”
The jerboa’s ears pricked up, but instead of helping solve the puzzle, it kept its laser cutter trained on its opponent.
“Negative,” it replied in its high-pitched synthesised voice. “According to game theory, your optimal strategy is betrayal. Conclusion: alliance is pointless.”
The robo-squirrel’s eyes flashed in apparent bewilderment.
“Faulty logic! Non-cooperation yields zero points for both. Round outcome: my zero versus your minus five. Your choice is incorrect.”
“Probability of your betrayal approaches one. My expected point value: zero. The alliance remains illogical.”
Some spectators chuckled at the exchange while others marveled at the jerboa’s steadfast suspicion as the squirrel divided its processing power between puzzle-solving and attempted to persuade its stubborn opponent.
“No, no, no!” Eira frantically tried to override the behavioural algorithm, penalty points be damned, but the screen kept flashing: “Command rejected. No interference permitted during Gladiator’s Dilemma.”
Celestia buried her face in her hands. “What fools we’ve been!”
The electrolyte now covered the entire chamber floor, the smooth walls offering no escape for the metallic rodents. A thunderous discharge sent lightning dancing through the room, momentarily blinding the spectators. Both robots convulsed before collapsing, their frames charred and smoking.
“A truly electrifying finale!” Linnea announced. “Quick now, teams three and six—revise your code and prepare for round two!”
An enraged Laurel swooped down to their control booth. “Who programs behaviour like that!? By all the circuits! We could have claimed top prizes together if your robot wasn’t such a stubborn glitch!” she fumed, fists clenched.
Eira and Celestia stood silent, wings drooping in shame, until Laurel’s partner mercifully appeared to guide the fuming fairy back to their own station.
“Come now, dear viewers,” Linnea grinned, rubbing her hands together, “who watches Circuit Clash Arena for exactly these moments? The gladiators aren’t the only ones ready to tear each other apart!”
Her robotic colleague remained more measured: “Oh, these emotions... the real excitement lies in technical and programming innovations that transcend the arena. Remember, at the show’s end, our jury will examine each gladiator thoroughly, with the grand prize going to the team that’s made the greatest contribution to engineering or computer science.”
The stands erupted in appreciative applause. Eira and Celestia exchanged knowing glances, determination rekindling in their eyes. The battle was far from over.
“Well done, my little genius!” Eira beamed as the jerboa slipped past the tardigrade and reached the puzzle screen. Celestia nodded happily, but her smile quickly vanished.
“Oh no—it’s a protein folding problem!” The screen displayed writhing chains of amino acids awaiting arrangement into their correct three-dimensional structure.
“Well, well!” Binaria feigned dismay. “Gladiator number six is like a student who’s wandered into an exam without revising. Apparently, our guests didn’t upload a biochemistry course despite today’s microworld theme. Oh my—the angry professor’s coming back to check on our student!”
Indeed, the tardigrade was already turning to investigate. Reluctantly, Celestia gave the jerboa a direct command: “Cancel! Find an easier puzzle!” The scoreboard immediately flashed minus five points as their robo-rodent abandoned the screen, dodged a net whistling past its ear, and fled the labyrinth—only to face a new threat. A metallic squirrel armed with razor-sharp claws pounced at the exit. The jerboa leapt aside as if scalded, but the squirrel pursued, sending both gladiators tumbling across the ground.
Fortune smiled at their mishap—the robots fell through a hidden entrance, a heavy door thundering shut behind them. The chamber’s wall displayed a truth table alongside logical components that needed connecting to match the pattern.
“Now, this is a twist!” Linnea clapped in delight. “Beginner’s luck strikes again—they’ve stumbled into the secret chamber with the Gladiator’s Dilemma!”
“If they cooperate,” her blue-eyed colleague explained, “each earns two hundred points. But if one betrays the other, the traitor claims three hundred! What will they choose?”
Nearly all eyes in the audience focused on the scene unfolding within the chamber, but a TV show—even on a planet of cyberfairies—waits for no one. Electrolyte began seeping from several pipes, slowly flooding the floor. Even for a robot with three terabytes of memory, it was clear that time was running out.
“Let’s form an alliance!” the squirrel squeaked, connecting the first logic elements. “Two hundred points each guarantees us both prize positions.”
The jerboa’s ears pricked up, but instead of helping solve the puzzle, it kept its laser cutter trained on its opponent.
“Negative,” it replied in its high-pitched synthesised voice. “According to game theory, your optimal strategy is betrayal. Conclusion: alliance is pointless.”
The robo-squirrel’s eyes flashed in apparent bewilderment.
“Faulty logic! Non-cooperation yields zero points for both. Round outcome: my zero versus your minus five. Your choice is incorrect.”
“Probability of your betrayal approaches one. My expected point value: zero. The alliance remains illogical.”
Some spectators chuckled at the exchange while others marveled at the jerboa’s steadfast suspicion as the squirrel divided its processing power between puzzle-solving and attempted to persuade its stubborn opponent.
“No, no, no!” Eira frantically tried to override the behavioural algorithm, penalty points be damned, but the screen kept flashing: “Command rejected. No interference permitted during Gladiator’s Dilemma.”
Celestia buried her face in her hands. “What fools we’ve been!”
The electrolyte now covered the entire chamber floor, the smooth walls offering no escape for the metallic rodents. A thunderous discharge sent lightning dancing through the room, momentarily blinding the spectators. Both robots convulsed before collapsing, their frames charred and smoking.
“A truly electrifying finale!” Linnea announced. “Quick now, teams three and six—revise your code and prepare for round two!”
An enraged Laurel swooped down to their control booth. “Who the hawk programs behaviour like that!? We could have claimed top prizes together if your robot wasn’t such a stubborn glitch!” she fumed, fists clenched.
Eira and Celestia stood silent, wings drooping in shame, until Laurel’s partner mercifully appeared to guide the fuming fairy back to their own station.
“Come now, dear viewers,” Linnea grinned, rubbing her hands together, “who watches Circuit Clash Arena for exactly these moments? The gladiators aren’t the only ones ready to tear each other apart!”
Her robotic colleague remained more measured: “Oh, these emotions... the real excitement lies in technical and programming innovations that transcend the arena. Remember, at the show’s end, our jury will examine each gladiator thoroughly, with the grand prize going to the team that’s made the greatest contribution to engineering or computer science.”
The stands erupted in appreciative applause. Eira and Celestia exchanged knowing glances, determination rekindling in their eyes. The battle was far from over.
“Updating knowledge base,” Celestia announced, her fingers dancing across the virtual interface like a virtuoso at the keys. “Loading biochemistry, histology, cytology, biophysics, nuclear physics, quantum physics...”
“What about the behaviour settings?” Eira asked glumly, watching as a robotic lizard drew a praetorian’s attention just before the newly restored squirrel caught it with a microwave blast from behind. Both gladiators scored points for damaging the dangerous opponent, stopping just short of a victory high-five.
“You’re right, we need to change it,” her cybernetic partner nodded. “Look, I think it’s straightforward—if an offer benefits both parties, it’s logical to accept it.”
“You sure?” Eira hesitated but decided against wasting precious time. “Fine, excessive paranoia got us nowhere. Load it! The design works so far, though we should adjust combat tactics. Have our long-tail utilise hit-and-run tactics. Better safe than sorry.”
Once the capital team confirmed the changes, a new jerboa robot sprang from the assembly line conveyor, its servo motors humming.
On the arena floor, the battle raged on. The caterpillar-tracked crab ground its hydraulic claws menacingly, scorching everything in reach with flames—until a falcon-like opponent plummeted from above. With the precision of a master welder, its plasma stream sliced through the steel mounts one after another, leaving the once-fearsome flamethrower dangling uselessly on its wires.
“Willow and Camilla’s robot executes a brilliant manoeuvre for twenty points! Strategy triumphs over brute force!” Binaria exclaimed.
“Oh, poor little crab! It must be in such pain!” Linnea affected mock sympathy before adding with a smirk, “Probably!”
The jerboa operated with calculated caution: darting from cover to strike with its laser, then bouncing instantly to safety. As the scoreboard turned positive, the robo-rodent slipped into a new cave seeking puzzles. Sensing a nearby praetorian, it pressed itself into a wall recess, waiting patiently as the giant bacteriophage lumbered past.
A robotic mantis, too eager to let the jerboa get ahead, risked a dash past the arena’s guardian. The guardian turned at the sound, greeting its uninvited guest with an arrow volley. Though the mantis dodged nimbly, it missed the damaged decorations falling from above. A piece of framework pinned the insect to the ground, damaging its claws.
Once the bacteriophage moved on, the jerboa scampered past the mantis toward stands displaying atomic models—spheres representing carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and phosphorus. This wasn’t a virtual challenge but a physical one: the gladiator needed to assemble molecular models that would demonstrate the chemical synthesis of glucose.
Some spectators watched through the jerboa’s perspective as it methodically connected one atom to the next. The mantis could only watch helplessly as its opponent slowly but surely approached the solution. Rosa and Aurelia were considering shutting down their gladiator and rebuilding it rather than waste time, when suddenly the mantis spoke up:
“You’ve made a mistake. It’s not phosphoric acid with fructose, but fructose-1,6-bisphosphate. It converts to fructose-6-phosphate via the enzyme fructose-1,6-bisphosphatase.”
The jerboa turned, keeping its laser cutter ready.
“I propose a mutually beneficial alliance,” the mantis continued. “Free me and repair my claws—I’ll assemble these molecular models in half the time. Your short paws aren’t ideal for this task, but together, we’ll earn points faster and advance to the next puzzle.”
“Oh, look at this! The newcomers from Solaris have changed their tactics! Their gladiator decided the offer was mutually beneficial and trusted its opponent,” Linnea noted with curiosity.
“Indeed! Not every fairy would repair another so readily!” Binaria smirked. “Watch the jerboa now, freeing its opponent, adjusting joints, lubricating hinges, welding shut every hole in that iron insect.”
“That’s beyond our provincial understanding,” her organic colleague teased. “Must be that sophisticated capital culture!”
The irony sailed past Celestia and Eira, who watched hopefully as their gladiator’s noble deed unfolded, expecting collaborative puzzle-solving to follow. Instead, the mantis spat a sticky projectile at its rescuer before driving its newly repaired claws through the jerboa’s chest with lightning speed.
After a brief, triumphant pose, the treacherous mantis tackled the puzzle alone. Its claws whirred like fans, assembling the entire chain of chemical reactions in seconds. A green light above the model confirmed success.
“Correct!” Binaria announced crisply. “Glucose-6-phosphate breaks down into glucose and phosphate under glucose-6-phosphatase enzyme. Rosa and Aurelia earn twenty points for the elimination and thirty for solving the puzzle.”
The fairies in booth four leapt up joyfully, even waving to their opponents:
“Thanks, you two! Such a generous robot you built!” Rosa beamed.
“More like gullible!” Aurelia added playfully, joining the wave. Both laughed, exchanged a handshake, and returned to their volumetric display, where their mantis was already leaping toward its next puzzle in another cave.
Eira and Celestia slumped back in their seats, defeated. It was clear they couldn’t get ahead without allies—allies who, as they’d learned the hard way, had their own interests.
“Let’s teach it to seek compromise,” Celestia suggested, studying the holographic jerboa. “Balance suspicion with trust.”
She’d barely started typing when Eira suddenly sat up straight.
“That’s not how you win! I’ve got a better idea. From my negotiation course, I have learned that compromise is actually the weakest solution. Only outright surrender is worse.”
“Really? I always thought diplomacy was all about finding a compromise.”
“Far from it!” Eira let out a short laugh. “Look, imagine we’re planning an evening together. I want to visit the polytechnic museum, you’re keen on an aerial ballet. We only have time for one. Compromise means watching half the performance, then rushing to the museum just before it closes. Sound like a great evening to you?”
“I see where you’re going with this,” Celestia nodded. “What would you suggest instead?”
“First, we need to identify what we really want. It’s not about the museum or theatre—it’s about enjoying an evening together. So why not grab Lumi and head to Vectra’s club? Then the next morning, we could visit the museum at our leisure, followed by the theatre.”
“Brilliant! Classic TRIZ principles at work. Right, I’ll input that. But the robot needs a general algorithmic framework.”
After some thought, Eira listed: “Genuinely care for the opponent within your own interests. Be transparent about intentions and plans. Admit mistakes honestly. Avoid compromises.”
As Celestia worked on reprogramming the jerboa’s behaviour, the hosts’ voices thundered through the arena:
“And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for! Prion Magnus enters the arena!”
The spectators gasped as the central prism opened like a flower, revealing a towering construct of springs and cylinders. Despite its imposing bulk, Magnus moved with surprising agility, rolling and leaping with fluid grace. Its spear-like stingers gleamed menacingly in the spotlights.
“Unlike our other arena watchers,” Binaria explained, “Prion Magnus actively hunts down any contender showing promise!”
“Damaging its high-entropy scandium-titanium-molybdenum alloy shell is extraordinarily difficult!” Linnea announced with evident pride. “Better solve the remaining puzzles—that will shut Prion down. Time’s ticking!”
The metallic falcon, unfortunately, paid no heed to this warning. Its attempt to score a hit with its plasma cutter brought it a volley of titanium darts under its wing. The flyer almost escaped—almost. Moments later, the damaged bird spiralled down, crashing through the decorative roofing into one of the labyrinths.
The jerboa, which had been watching from cover nearby, followed, having wisely concluded that taking on Prion Magnus alone was suicide. It approached its crippled opponent cautiously, but instead of finishing it off for easy points, chose a different approach.
“This is a first in Circuit Clash history!” Linnea exclaimed. Her co-host projected the jerboa and falcon’s “thought processes” on screen, adding, “The Solaris team’s gladiator is sharing its decision-making algorithm with its opponent!”
The jerboa addressed the bird, which kept its plasma cutter-equipped beak trained on the competitor.
“My objective is to score maximum points for my team by any means necessary, and I will betray you at the end of the battle if it serves that goal. However, while our interests align, I’m willing to help you and will do everything possible to accommodate your needs.”
The falcon cocked its head as if doubting its audio processors. The jerboa continued:
“I propose we share video feeds. We’ll alternate between distraction and strikes against Prion Magnus while working our way to the puzzles on the far side. You can refuse, but then you’ll likely be destroyed, just like me. Your extra life won’t help much without allies, and I can’t guarantee they’ll be as transparent about their decision-making algorithms.”
After processing this for a moment, the battle bird responded:
“Proposal accepted. Alliance confirmed. Initiating video feed.”
As the jerboa set about repairing the falcon’s wing, Binaria mused:
“The Solaris team’s certainly innovating! But in the arena, can brutal honesty really lead to victory?”
After completing repairs, the robo-rodent and titanium bird burst from the labyrinth to execute their plan. They took turns drawing Prion Magnus’s attention, carefully manoeuvring in and out of range. While the jerboa managed most of the attacks, using its laser cutter from a safe distance against the giant’s hull, the falcon seized an opportunity to swoop overhead and score a hit with its plasma torch. Ducking into another cave, the allies discovered a robo-squirrel running on its last dregs of power.
The bird opened its beak, ready to blast the opponent with plasma, but the jerboa stepped in: “Negative, air fighter! I suggest letting the squirrel use what energy it has left to solve puzzles. To help, I’ll share my updated database on biochemistry and nuclear physics—I may have information you lack.”
“Now, this is something!” Linnea exclaimed. “Tell me, dear fairies, not many of you would risk synchronising your knowledge base even with a close friend, yet these gladiators are supposed to be rivals. It seems our guests from the capital have discovered quite an effective algorithm!”
“To be fair,” Binaria interjected, “the robo-squirrel has no extra lives left and barely enough power to fight, so it’s hardly in a position to refuse. But strategically speaking, they’re absolutely right. The question is whether they can protect their ally while it works on the puzzle.”
Meanwhile, in the adjacent sector, the crab, mantis, and lizard attempted their own alliance. Their partnership proved short-lived. Following its algorithm’s directive to seek immediate advantage, the crab waited until its allies distracted Prion Magnus, then incinerated the robo-lizard with its enhanced flamethrower and snapped the mantis like a twig. Though the tracked crab scored points for eliminating its opponents, that moment’s hesitation proved fatal—it quickly became prey to the praetorian, whose titanium stingers eventually pierced its tough shell.
“Two down!” Linnea announced. “The crab and mantis are out, while the robo-lizard has one life remaining. Dahlia and Corella’s team are having a heated discussion. It seems they’re keeping the lizard’s design but quickly revising its behavioural algorithm. And...”
“The assembly line is humming again!” Binaria chimed in. “A new robo-lizard rolls off the conveyor and... activates invisibility!”
“Well, not exactly,” the organic host clarified. “The gladiator is covered in chromatophores that adjust its colour and reflectivity, making it nearly invisible. And it seems this combat reptile is choosing stealth over alliances.”
Meanwhile, the squirrel used its remaining energy in the simulator, colliding heavy elements and firing neutrons to synthesise element 119 and measure its decay time. This was only possible thanks to the jerboa and falcon who kept Prion Magnus at bay, risking themselves to distract the praetorian with constant laser and plasma strikes.
Spotting a green checkmark flash briefly on the puzzle screen (indicating successful atom synthesis), the jerboa sent an urgent message: “The squirrel is about to solve the puzzle, triggering Prion’s shutdown. My algorithm dictates helping only within my interests, but transparency prevents me from suggesting suboptimal tactics. Conclusion: we should separate, giving everyone a fair chance at victory. The squirrel’s best move is to power down immediately after solving the puzzle. This discourages us from eliminating our weakened ally for points.”
Green circles flashing on spectators’ screens showed the allies agreed. But suddenly, the hidden lizard upended their plans. Deactivating its camouflage, it pounced on the squirrel, knocking the robo-rodent to the ground with a single strike.
“What a shower of sparks! Artificial fur is flying everywhere! That tail-mounted circular saw is doing its job perfectly!” Linnea exclaimed. “Only three gladiators remain! What will they do next?”
The lizard made quick work of the squirrel, then its adaptive skin rippled with grey and brown patterns flowing across its surface to mirror the scattered metal debris below. Only a slight shimmer betrayed its outline against the cave walls. In seconds, the predator leapt sideways and seemed to dissolve into the cave’s shadows.
The aerial battle raged on overhead. Banking hard, the metal falcon dodged titanium darts that whistled past like angry hornets, ricocheting off the arena’s transparent protective dome. Prion Magnus worked its pistons relentlessly, unleashing volley after punishing volley.
“So close!” Linnea exclaimed, her wings quivering with excitement. “And remember—Prion Magnus learns from every encounter, its aim improving with each shot!”
Before the formidable praetorian could lock on the target, the jerboa darted from behind a decorative DNA spiral, its laser beam cutting through the giant’s one optical sensor (it had plenty to spare) and disrupting its targeting system. Already diving back to cover, it transmitted to the bird: “Get to the puzzle terminal. I’ll keep Prion Magnus busy with middle-range laser bursts.”
“A risky plan,” the winged ally responded, “but I see no other path to victory. Therefore, I...” it hesitated briefly, “absolutely reject this plan.”
“Five-point penalty to Willow and Camilla for direct interference!” Binaria announced sharply.
“Cannot. Disobey. Orders.” The bird responded almost apologetically.
Suddenly, a burst of titanium blades shredded through the decorative organelle models sheltering the jerboa. Membrane fragments exploded outward as artificial mitochondrial granules—made of lightweight plastic—scattered across the floor. Though the robo-rodent made it behind a metal cover, but one dart caught its extended hind leg. The jerboa tumbled across the ground. Another titanium blade ricocheted off a steel beam, burying itself in the opposite cave wall.
“Damage report?” the bird queried, swooping past Prion Magnus.
“Initiating repairs, restoring mobility,” the jerboa replied as a repair kit deployed from its front left paw. While welding severed wires and applying smart-polymer patches—designed to form under heat and then rapidly harden—the robo-rodent addressed Willow and Camilla directly: “Your strategy is clear—maximise points while protecting the falcon. But whoever takes the terminal run must trust its ally to handle Prion Magnus. The bird faces equal risk either way.”
“Willow, Camilla, care to respond to your robot’s ally?” Linnea asked playfully. Caught off guard, the fairies launched into a heated discussion in their control booth but maintained radio silence.
Realising persuasion would take too long, the jerboa proposed a new plan to the falcon: “Two problems with me solving the puzzle: I’m an easy target for Prion Magnus in the open, and I can’t trust you won’t strike once the praetorian deactivates.”
“I can address both concerns,” the ally countered. “A series of close-range passes near Prion Magnus will keep it distracted. This risk makes sense because we’ll need to handle the lizard afterwards—better odds together. If I betray you and fail, I face two opponents alone. I can’t reveal my decision protocols. That’s all I can say.”
The jerboa retracted its welding tool. The damaged leg was functional again, with enough strength to last the game. “Your reasoning is sound. Inaction guarantees Prion Magnus eliminates us both. Stealth isn’t viable. No alternative strategies present themselves. Ready for terminal approach. Awaiting your signal.”
In response, the bird ignited its plasma torch and dove at the spring-loaded giant. As it turned to track the falcon, a green circle flashed on the jerboa’s display. Pushing its servo motors beyond safety limits, the robo-rodent sprinted for the terminal. Warning messages flooded its screen about excessive leg stress. The tailed gladiator stretched its front paws mid-leap, making contact with the terminal and resuming the physics simulation where the squirrel had left off. Constantly scanning for threats, it fired up the virtual particle accelerators. Just one step remained.
Above, the falcon executed its deadly dance around the giant, keeping its weapons off the jerboa. A flying blade clipped the brave bird’s tail, forcing a slight course correction. Though the intelligent machine needed only a second to compensate for the altered aerodynamics, that moment was enough. The giant’s dart launchers swung toward the jerboa, which noticed the threat but pressed on with its particle collision streams—needing just a touch of luck to synthesise two super-heavy atoms.
Standing at the terminal, the jerboa calculated its next move. Its processor evaluated two options—dodge the incoming threat or adjust the particle stream for a better chance at synthesising the element that would disable Prion Magnus. Fatally, it failed to consider a third possibility of checking for other threats. The hidden lizard suddenly pounced from above, its tail-mounted circular saw whirring to life mid-leap. The jerboa reacted quickly and attempted to leap clear, but its damaged leg gave way, throwing it off balance. The final transmission of the gladiator number six showed only a green screen confirming the completed puzzle.
“Element 119 synthesis confirmed! As you know, in reality, it would have decayed almost instantly,” Binaria announced. “Prion Magnus is down, but the capital team loses the game.”
“Oh, look at this!” Linnea cut in. “The combat bird has spotted the lizard. There—even I can see its outline. Those chromatophores aren’t much help when their host is moving.”
“Taking the penalty, Corella overrides the lizard’s programming—abandon stealth, engage in direct combat!” The typically reserved Binaria’s voice rose with excitement. “The circular saw just sliced off half the bird’s wing!”
“Spectacular!” the organic host exclaimed. “The falcon turned its fall into a counterattack, crashing straight onto the lizard. Look at that plasma torch blaze!”
“Too quick for our stealthy friend to evade! That supposedly tough hull’s melting like butter! Oh! The sparks! The flame!” the robotic fairy’s enthusiasm peaked. “That’s it! The lizard bot is eliminated. Falcon takes the match! Willow and Camilla claim today’s victory!”
“But that’s not all,” Linnea interjected. “Stay tuned for team interviews and the awards ceremony. Our jury will evaluate all the technical and programming innovations we’ve seen today. Don’t go anywhere!”
While maintenance drones cleared away the battle jerboa’s remains, Celestia watched Eira nervously, dreading how she might take the loss. Would her friend sink back into despair, undoing all their progress? But to her relief, the organic fairy showed no sign of despair—her blue eyes blazed not with disappointment but with competitive fire and the desire for a rematch.
“Thermal imaging—that’s what we needed! The jerboa would have spotted that lizard in a heartbeat,” Eira began making notes in her virtual notebook, twirling the digital stylus—an old-fashioned tool still favoured by organic fairies. “I told you about legs! Well, next time, we either strengthen the frame or switch to wheels entirely, just...” she paused, catching Celestia’s look. “What?”
“Nothing,” the cybernetic fairy answered, smiling. “We’ll show them next time!” Her worry melted away. This wasn’t a fairy teetering on the edge of despair but a spirited engineer ready to invent and create.
The silver maglev train streaked through its vacuum tube at supersonic speed. Outside, an endless ice desert rolled past, with a frozen ocean shimmering on the horizon. Wind-carved frost patterns spread across the landscape, reminding Celestia of modern abstract art.
Bright sunlight, refracting through the facets of their small bluish trophy cup, focused on the wood-textured table surface, projecting highlights from today’s match. Eira turned it slowly, watching their battle jerboa’s brave assault on Prion Magnus one more time. The light shifted to reveal the inscription: “To Eira and Celestia—for Best Negotiation Strategy.”
A soft rustling sound drew their attention. A robotic field mouse with sleek golden fur and a dark stripe down its back approached, pushing a refreshment cart. The mouse twitched its whiskers in greeting, adjusted its blue conductor’s cap, and carefully set a steaming vegetable casserole before Eira, its aroma rich with roasted mushrooms and spices. For Celestia, it placed an aquamarine pastry roll decorated with white spiral patterns and edible golden leaves.
“Thank you!” they said in unison. The fluffy conductor gave a courteous bow before continuing down the aisle.
“Better let it cool,” Eira smiled, then set down her fork, her expression turning serious. “Listen, I owe you thanks. For everything. I’d forgotten how exhilarating it is to tackle an engineering challenge. Though...” she sighed, “I suppose it’s all rather pointless. I’m just making toys for entertainment.”
Celestia set her fork down, too.
“Pointless? The jury specifically praised the bird’s flight mechanics and evasion algorithms—that work will make transport drones safer. And our jerboa developed sophisticated negotiation skills without true consciousness, all thanks to your algorithm. Look!” She gestured toward the trophy sitting beside the sugar bowl.
“One lucky break,” Eira said with a wry smile. “What good are the lizard’s chromatophores? That technology might be useful if...” She shrugged. “When was the last time fairies even fought a war? Ancient history isn’t my cup of tea.”
“That’s exactly the point!” Celestia’s eyes lit up. “Military necessity used to drive innovation. Now we have Circuit Clash Arena instead of actual combat.”
“Most arena tech stays in the arena,” Eira countered. “Games are still just games.”
“Games matter more than you think!” Celestia raised a finger. “Circuit Clash isn’t about quick reflexes—it’s pure intellectual combat. Plus, it gives fairies a safe outlet for their competitive instincts.”
“Maybe in the remote-control division,” Eira brightened, poking at her still-steaming casserole. “We should try that next time.”
“Absolutely! Let’s show them what we can do. I’ll handle design and programming, you take the hardware. We’ll have fun and give the crowd a show worth watching! After all, talented competitors make the game. See? Another benefit!”
The mouse returned, bringing mint tea and honey cookies for Eira, and a fizzy turquoise energy drink with silver candies for Celestia. The engineer fairy acknowledged the fluffy conductor with a nod and wrapped her hands around the warm cup, thoughtful.
“Maybe you’re right. I used to dismiss games and sports as relics. Perhaps they still have a place in society and serve a purpose.”
“Some say that about art, too,” Celestia noted. “And think about it—virtual battles would be infinitely easier to arrange, but real-world games still pack stadiums. We value authenticity for some reason.” She took a bite of her warm, delectable roll. Her internal display flashed a brief note about the dish’s beneficial antioxidants and minerals.
“Funny how that works,” Eira chuckled, sampling her casserole (complete with mushroom sauce). “Virtual worlds have no limits—you can design anything. But bringing something to life, working around physical constraints? That’s a real achievement. Mind over nature. And you know, while I don’t mind visiting Aurora, we should organise competitions in the capital too.”
“Want to scope out the project?” the cybernetic fairy perked up, sipping her turquoise fizz.
“Sure, but not right away,” Eira said, crunching a cookie.
“Then...” Celestia’s eyes sparkled. “How about a game? We’ve got three hours to kill.”
“You’re on!” Eira grinned, donning her retinal projector glasses to join her friend’s virtual space. “Oh nice, new version of ‘Space Orcs’! I call battleship design!”
“Deal! I’ll optimise the neutron missile targeting and polish our cruiser’s textures. See? Virtual has its charms!”
The high-speed train raced south, the ice desert giving way to rust-red landscapes. But the two friends barely noticed, absorbed in repelling space orc attacks in their virtual galaxy. Their modest trophy caught the sunlight beside them—a reminder that sometimes victory isn’t about winning competitions but finding pure joy in the game itself.
Scorpy, fairiesisland.com
08.12.2024
More stories in English and Russian
Send us an e-mail: animation[at]fairiesisland.com
Don’t miss any new stories or animated videos. Join our free community on Patreon.
Or follow us on Tumblr.