Notes:
Characters: Mr. B. and Jack (a guide)
Warning: The guide, Jack, tells Mr. B. that Brian Kinney died soon after the mayoral election and that Justin Taylor disappeared. Don’t be shocked. This story is situated about 300 years from our days into the future.
Edited by lucel
Mr. B. endures the consequences of his dinner with “J”. He isn’t at his best. Later he takes the first step and calls for transportation to The Challenge. He is given a tour of the place, and he hears more detailed description of the rules.
Challenges 3: Tour of the Doomed
The restaurant where J and I had had our little chat was a laid back place. I stayed at my table for some time after he left. I mulled our conversation over and over in my head, but it didn’t help. It always came to the same defining interchange.
“You take my freedom, force me to play your games, then make me work for you for nothing if I lose. And you expect me to pay for this!!!!” I had asked J in disbelief.
“Well, yes. This is business after all,” was his calm, but infuriating answer.
It took time for me to come to terms with all that J told me as I just sat there staring into my glass of Jim Beam and drinking. When I decided to take the challenge, I had had no idea where that decision would lead. The Beam seemed to help me process the information. After my fourth shot, the waiter just kept them coming. I was very very drunk when I left.
I don’t know what brilliant plan I developed in my drunken stupor that night, but it was gone by the time I woke up the next morning. Very carefully, without opening my eyes, I turned on my back. The movement seemed to slosh my poor brain all around my skull. I couldn’t think of dying, thinking would have been too painful.
Much later I considered opening my eyes. If it had been afternoon, the sun would not have been shining through any of my windows. If I had been home, that is. I wasn’t too sure where I was at that point, but I remember I decided it had to be afternoon. Feeling the way I did, I couldn’t possibly have awakened before noon. I cracked one eye open, then turned my head slowly from side to side to take in my surroundings. Though blacksmiths’ hammers seemed to be pounding in my head, at least my eyes didn’t tear up. Still, I’m sure my hangover measured at least 7.5 on the Richter Scale.
I found myself in my own hotel bed wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. I had no idea how I got there. How did I manage to get out of my clothes, into the sweats, and decently into my bed? I had more than enough memories of hangover wake ups on floors, on couches, and under some tables. Once I even slept on a toilet seat. Something odd had happened in my room last night. I woke up alone in my bed. Nobody else was anywhere I could see from that bed. I didn’t call out in to see if somebody was there. I was sure that speaking would have killed me.
Only one thing made me leave the safety of my bed. Nature called with a vengeance. Getting up, I walked heroically into the bathroom. I didn’t dare to look in the mirror.
After taking care of business, my head finally decided it would stay on my shoulders. I needed something to drink, nourishment for my abused stomach. I didn’t need to put on pants. I couldn’t manage a shirt: I tried, but the scratch of the fibers against my skin almost split my head. I staggered to the kitchen area and found a chair. I rested there for a while. The two steps needed to get to the fridge were a frightening prospect.
I stayed right where I was, concentrating on the hard work of breathing.
Finally I was able to drink a glass of juice, ate some leftover pasta, and even kept it all down.
Later that day when I finally felt more in control, I started to organize my life so I could be on leave for a month. I also deposited 10,000 credits into The Challenge bank account as required.
**********************************************************************
Five days later on Friday night, I contacted The Challenge Quoin for the first time. I was told to wait: somebody would come and take me – and my overnight bag – to the establishment. I had no idea where in Pittsburgh The Challenge was located, the place was really elusive. I didn’t have to wait for long. I was escorted to a flyer that was the very definition of opulent luxury. I wasn’t the only passenger. There were three other men. Two of them were patrons the same as I was, attractive men both. The third man served us drinks and in general took care of our needs during our flight. He was a nice looking man, but not a looker. He did a very good job hosting us; good enough, so that I didn’t notice that the vehicle had no windows. To this day I have no idea where The Challenge is located.
Although the other two patrons were not first timers like me, they would not tell me much about The Challenge. They said that it would be better to leave it to the professionals to introduce me. They had both won challenges in the past and had also lost some. I wondered why they would come back after losing. They told me they had wondered the same thing at first, but that the experience made them think differently. They told me they enjoyed the thrill of never knowing how the evening would play out. I had to admit that that intrigued me as well.
We landed on the well-lit roof of a tall building. The traffic seemed pretty heavy at that time of evening, but there was no disorder. Despite vehicles constantly landing and taking-off, the roof was a strangely peaceful place. My co-passengers told me that it would probably be a typical Friday night at The Challenge: there would probably be about 50 to 60 patrons, and the staff personnel would be about twice that.
Our servant escorted us inside trough an impressive door. It was very high and the opening was really wide. The door panels were decorated with embossed copper sheets that shone in the bright lights. The hall we came to was grand and impressive as well. The servant that had taken care of us so far left with our suitcases. At the same time, we were guided to the reception desk. There, I was parted from my companions. As soon as my identity was checked, I was given into the care of a very attractive young man.
The young man was called Jack, and he was a guide. He told me that he and the other guides could be recognized by their jacket lapels which were embroidered with golden braid. The guides would help me with any question I might have. First, Jack took me to a private and cozy room where I added my preferences and needs to their computer files. When we had taken care of that, he took me on a tour of The Challenge. We stepped in a lift and went all the way down 19 levels.
I came out of the lift to a most peculiar sight. It was very dark in there. The floor beneath my feet was odd. It looked like it was covered with gravel, but it was all solid. The “gravel” was also a lot darker than any gravel I had ever seen. There were only two sources of light: both were on top of tall posts and both were an oddly warm – almost yellow – shade of light. They were not very bright, and half way from one post to the other there was almost no light at all. On the other side of the space from us, there was a wall of bricks with a door in the middle.
“What is this place, Jack?” I asked my guide.
“This Quoin has existed from 2067, for 234 years, Mr. B. This ground we stand on is part of the street that was on this spot back then. Lamps are the same as well. The wall over there is part of the original building where The Challenge began. The building we are in completely swallows that first Quoin. In fact, we still use some of this space for a few offices and the Blue Bar.”
“What is the Blue Bar?”
“It is a very exclusive bar. Only those that have been challenged by Blue are allowed in there.”
“What is so special about the color “Blue” that it becomes part of a bar’s name? Or are there more bars like this one?”
“No, this is the only one. It’s just that nobody has ever won the Blue Challenge.”
“Never… Hmmm… How long has the Blue Challenge existed?”
“All 234 years The Challenge has been open, Mr. B.”
“What?????”
“It’s true, Mr. B. The Blue Challenge has never been won in 234 years.”
“Jack, what is that challenge? In all that time it has to have changed many times.”
“Nobody knows, Mr. B, except for those who have been challenged. They keep the secret. I don’t know why, but it has not been leaked in all those years.”
I looked at the old door feeling a shiver run down my spine. Would I become a victim of the Blue, be forced to bottom? It wasn’t a comforting thought. I had been known as a King Stud in so many parts of the globe, it was the role I had chosen for my self long ago, the role I felt most comfortable with. To let myself be forced to bottom felt impossible. I needed something else to think about.
“Jack, do you know anything about the history of this place. Who started it and how? Or Why? Is The Challenge today anything like it was back then?”
“I’m glad you asked. That subject has been a hobby of mine. Quite a lot is known because we have a very good archive. The founder was Weston Harnley. He was related to a man who lived in that building about 60 years earlier with his lover. Those two had been celebrities of gay Pittsburgh – called Liberty Avenue at that time – because they had prevented a homophobic person from being elected to the post of the mayor. One of the couple had been known for years for his sexual exploits; he was the King Stud of Liberty Avenue. The other one became famous for having been able to tame the King Stud. Soon after the mayoral election, the stud became seriously ill. When he died about eight months later, his lover was devastated. He left Pittsburgh and was never seen again. In some ways, The Challenge is a tribute to these two individuals.”
“Do you know their names?”
“The stud was Brian Kinney, and the other one was Justin Taylor, who is distantly related to Weston Harnley.”
“Brian and Justin… Jack, you said that Brian died of a disease? Was it AIDS? Wasn’t that the time period before the cure was found?”
“AIDS was a serious problem during their time, yes. But no, Mr. B, Brian died of a disease nobody recognized or understood. The cause was never found, and he just faded away.”
“Sad story. But back to The Challenge. The idea of the place has always been the same?”
“Yes, Mr. B. It’s really amazing how well that very old idea works even today. Mr. Harnley must have known human nature very well. If you don’t mind, could we continue our tour?”
“Show the way, Jack.”
We stepped back to the lift and returned to the reception hall. From there Jack took me to a large lounge. There was a bar, a fireplace, and comfortable looking sofas and easy chairs placed around tables. There were lots of men lounging there. It was very welcoming place.
“What is this place, Jack?”
“This is the Choosing Lounge. The challenges are given here at 10 o’clock sharp. Many of our patrons come early and use our different bars and restaurants while they wait. But all the patrons and the challenges gather here at ten o’clock every night when the challenge night officially begins.
“The ‘challenges’… you call a man that challenges a challenge.” I couldn’t help it. I snickered. For what ever reason, I found it hilarious. I must have been more nervous than I knew. Jack looked at me with a little smile. Bet he had seen a reaction like mine a thousand times, and worse too.
“Do you want me to tell you what is going to happen here, Mr. B?”
“I would appreciate it, yes. Please do.”
“You see the doors there on that wall, Mr. B?” I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but there were a pair of doors. I nodded.
“At 10 o’clock those doors will open, and the challenges will come into the lounge. There are three different groups and the Gold. Jay, the Gold, chooses first. – No, actually, the Blue chooses first, but he never comes into the Choosing Lounge or is even seen in other rooms. I don’t know why. I believe that Jay is the only one of the staff that has met the man. The rest of us haven’t even caught a glimpse of him. There is a rumor that he frequents the Blue Bar, but I’m not sure if that’s really true. If he chooses somebody, Jay gives the Blue Challenge to the chosen one. Blue doesn’t choose a patron very often, and he always chooses a top. Punishment for failing his test lasts for one month. And no, I don’t know his name.”
“Everyone asks that?” I grinned.
“Yes! And one more thing. You, Mr. B. – or any other patron for that matter – have only one chance with Blue and Gold. They never choose the same patron twice.”
That was a relief. I had been afraid that the month long punishment would be a repeating occurrence in my life from now on.
“As I said, Jay, the Gold, chooses first. You recognize him because he wears a golden outfit. Like Blue, Jay also chooses rarely. But if you lose to Jay, the punishment only lasts for three weeks. It’s rumored that at least one patron has won the Gold Challenge, but that has not happened for as long as I have worked here, and that’s more than eight years now.”
I had been told of only one impossible-to-win challenge. I felt a little as though I had been fooled, and no wonder!
“Next to choose are the brights. They wear outfits designed in pure and bright colors. To lose a bright challenge means two weeks of punishment. When all the brights have made their choices, the grays follow in their gray outfits. If you lose to any of them, punishment is only one week. And last but not least are the browns. They wear brown, and losing a brown challenge gives you a penalty of one night.”
“What happens next?”
“The challenge takes you to his quarters and tells you in private what the challenge is. Then the competition starts. Some of the challenges are private matters, some are public shows. It has to be very clear which one is the winner of the challenge, so some challenges are judged by impartial judges with no connection to The Challenge.”
“And then the loser has to take what ever treatment the other decides?”
“Yes, Mr. B. Well, permanent injuries are banned, of course. But it might get a bit unpleasant some times.” He looked at me questioningly. I hadn’t anything to say to that; I expected as much.
“In The Challenge it is customary to use an alias. Most of our patrons do. Would you want to use an alias, Mr. B?”
I thought that a drink would be appropriate at that point.
“Call me Beam.”
He showed me around the bars, restaurants, a gym, and other places to use for my pleasure. I was quiet with my shot of Beam. Ten o’clock came closer and closer, and I was a wreck. I have never been more anxious in my life than I was on that tour with a guide called Jack.
When Jack finally escorted me to the Choosing Lounge and sat down with me, I was really glad I wasn’t alone waiting for the doors to open…