Ch15 Trial Period

The glass doors opened without a sound.

Ryan stepped through and left the noise of the central plaza behind.

Cool air washed over him.

He stopped almost immediately.

The Streamer Guild's lobby was enormous.

The atrium rose through several floors, surrounded by sweeping walls of black metal and transparent glass. Blue-white light traced elegant lines through the architecture, converging on a vaulted ceiling covered in constantly shifting information.

Ryan looked up.

Numbers flowed across it.

CURRENT ACTIVE STREAMS: 8,441,092

TOTAL LIVE VIEWERS: 391,208,114,771

TOP CURRENT BROADCAST: THE FALL OF KERATH FLOOR 81

LIVE VIEWERS: 4,711,830,201

Ryan nearly walked into a bench.

Four billion.

He stared upward.

The numbers continued changing.

Hundreds of thousands of viewers appeared and disappeared every second.

Streams rose through rankings.

Others fell.

Subscriber counts climbed.

Sponsorship values fluctuated.

Advertisements rotated between combat equipment, cultivation resources, luxury products, Dungeon expeditions, and personalities Ryan had never heard of.

The entire building felt less like a guild headquarters and more like the beating heart of an industry.

Ryan loved it.

The air carried a faint smell of ozone beneath something crisp and artificial from the filtration system.

Floating camera drones moved quietly through the atrium.

Some followed armored warriors.

Others recorded interviews.

A group of aliens near one wall were posing in front of a holographic display while viewer comments poured through the air around them.

Ryan forced himself to stop staring.

He had come here for a reason.

At the center of the atrium stood an oval reception desk carved from polished black stone.

Behind it sat a slender alien woman.

Her skin shimmered as she moved, shifting between sapphire, violet, and hints of silver depending on the angle of the light. Four long, delicate fingers on each hand moved rapidly across a transparent interface.

Ryan approached.

"Excuse me."

The receptionist looked up.

Her large black eyes settled on his Exclipse uniform.

Unlike most aliens he'd encountered in the city, there was no obvious disgust in her expression.

Only professionalism.

Ryan immediately liked her more than half the city.

"I want to apply to the Streamer Guild."

"I assumed so."

Her voice came through Skynet's translation smoothly.

Ryan smiled.

"That obvious?"

"You entered through the applicant entrance."

Ryan glanced behind him.

A glowing sign above the doors read:

PROSPECTIVE CREATORS

"Oh."

The receptionist's expression didn't change.

Ryan cleared his throat.

"So... what are the requirements?"

"There are no universal cultivation-rank requirements."

Ryan blinked.

"Really?"

"No."

"Combat experience?"

"Not mandatory."

"Minimum Talent classification?"

"No."

Ryan leaned slightly closer.

"Then what actually matters?"

The receptionist stopped typing.

Her iridescent skin shifted toward deep violet as she looked directly at him.

"Whether people want to watch you."

Ryan went still.

She gestured toward the enormous viewer metrics above them.

"Power helps."

Her fingers resumed moving.

"Beauty helps."

Another gesture.

"Charisma. Controversy. Expertise. Humor. Violence. Unusual Talents. Rare species. Political connections. Exceptional victories. Spectacular failures."

Ryan's eyebrows rose at the last one.

"Failures?"

"Humiliation performs surprisingly well."

Ryan stared at her.

She remained completely serious.

"Right."

The receptionist continued.

"The Guild does not determine what makes a creator valuable. Audiences do."

That sentence lodged itself firmly in Ryan's mind.

He glanced toward the massive screens again.

"So if people watch..."

"You have value."

"And if they don't?"

"You don't."

Ryan smiled.

Simple.

Brutal.

He could work with that.

"Where do I sign up?"

The receptionist indicated a waiting area.

"Take a seat. Recruitment Director Bo will conduct today's orientation shortly."

"Thank you."

Ryan turned away.

Then stopped.

"One more question."

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

"Yes?"

"How many viewers does Darkstar usually pull?"

For the first time, the receptionist reacted.

Only slightly.

One eyebrow rose.

"Which market?"

Ryan blinked.

"Earth."

"Earth-local broadcasts or total syndication?"

Ryan opened his mouth.

Closed it.

He had never even considered that distinction.

"Never mind."

He walked away.

His universe had just gotten considerably larger.

Twelve applicants occupied the waiting area.

Most appeared to be young combatants, though Ryan couldn't tell how many were Exclipse recruits.

Three were human.

The rest represented species he either didn't recognize or had only seen in passing.

Ryan took an open seat beside another human wearing a scratched tactical jacket.

The guy glanced over.

Ryan nodded.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Ten minutes."

"Not bad."

Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Why'd you pick this Guild?"

The recruit looked toward one of the camera drones.

"Equipment."

Ryan expected him to say fame.

"What kind?"

"The trial drones."

The recruit pointed toward a sleek silver model passing overhead.

"High-grade visual sensors. Thermal imaging. Basic threat recognition. Emergency locator beacon. Terrain recording."

Ryan's interest sharpened.

"They give those to applicants?"

"Trial members."

The recruit shrugged.

"Even if nobody watches me, an extra set of eyes in the wilderness is worth the embarrassment."

Ryan nodded slowly.

That was smart.

He'd been so focused on streaming that he hadn't considered the drone as survival equipment.

"What's your Talent?"

The recruit looked at him.

"You interviewing me already?"

Ryan smiled.

"Practice."

The guy laughed.

"Stone Skin."

"Nice."

"You?"

"Absolute Energy Barrier."

The recruit's eyebrows rose.

"That sounds expensive."

Ryan sighed.

"Why does everyone immediately assume it's amazing?"

"Because you put Absolute in front of anything and it sounds amazing."

"I didn't name it."

"Sure."

Ryan laughed.

More applicants entered while they waited.

Fifteen.

Seventeen.

Twenty.

Then a chime sounded near the back of the atrium.

A private elevator opened.

The room quieted.

Ryan looked over.

And stared.

The alien who stepped out was tall and humanoid, dressed in a perfectly tailored crimson suit with black trim.

That was where normal ended.

His head, neck, and upper shoulders were covered in eyes.

Ryan tried counting them.

He gave up somewhere around fifty.

Small glossy black eyes of varying sizes covered almost every available surface, blinking independently in subtle waves. Some looked toward the applicants. Others watched the room. Several appeared focused on displays Ryan couldn't even see.

It should have been horrifying.

Somehow, it wasn't.

The alien carried himself with such effortless warmth that Ryan's instinctive discomfort faded almost immediately.

"Greetings."

His voice was deep and remarkably pleasant.

Every eye facing the applicants blinked nearly simultaneously.

"Prospective creators, I presume?"

Nobody answered.

The alien smiled.

At least Ryan thought it was a smile.

His mouth looked normal enough.

"Excellent."

He placed one hand over his chest.

"My name is Bo."

Several eyes shifted toward different candidates.

"I oversee recruitment and developmental acquisition for this branch of the Streamer Guild."

He gestured toward the corridor behind him.

"Please. Come with me."

Ryan stood.

The others followed.

Bo led them into a soundproof orientation room.

Rows of comfortable seats faced a low platform surrounded by holographic projectors.

Ryan sat near the front.

Of course he did.

Bo took his place before them.

"First, congratulations."

Several applicants exchanged confused looks.

"You have entered this building on a particularly fortunate day."

Ryan's attention sharpened.

Bo clasped his hands behind his back.

"Ordinarily, applicants at your cultivation level would undergo preliminary evaluation before receiving even temporary Guild resources."

Ryan frowned.

Ordinarily?

"However, circumstances have changed."

Bo's eyes rippled in another synchronized blink.

"Your Exclipse administration has requested accelerated faction integration for newly deployed cadets."

Ryan immediately thought of Jessica's question.

Why now?

Bo continued before he could dwell on it.

"The Guild has agreed to participate."

A holographic emblem appeared behind him.

STREAMER GUILD — PROVISIONAL CREATOR PROGRAM

"Understand something before we continue."

Bo's tone remained gentle.

"The Streamer Guild is not merely a social organization."

The hologram changed.

Money.

Weapons.

Ships.

Broadcast rights.

Sponsorship agreements.

Combat arenas.

Dungeon expeditions.

"We are a commercial power."

Another image appeared.

A warrior stood atop the corpse of some colossal beast while billions of viewer reactions poured around him.

"Attention is our primary resource."

Bo slowly walked across the platform.

"If you can acquire attention, retain it, and convert it into influence, you become valuable."

Ryan listened closely.

"Valuable creators receive opportunities."

Images changed with each word.

"Equipment."

Armor appeared.

"Information."

Dungeon maps.

"Training."

A combat instructor.

"Sponsorship."

Crystal payments.

"Access."

Restricted facilities.

"And, when circumstances require it..."

Bo stopped.

"Protection."

The room became quieter.

Bo's many eyes settled across the applicants.

"An active Guild creator who is illegally attacked while broadcasting does not disappear quietly."

Ryan thought of the strange faction directive again.

"Our recordings are archived across distributed systems. If someone ambushes you, attempts to murder you within protected territory, sabotages your equipment, or interferes with Guild property, we possess evidence."

Bo's pleasant voice became slightly colder.

"And we investigate."

A few applicants shifted.

"Depending upon your contractual status and commercial value, the Guild may pursue compensation, retaliation, legal sanction, bounties, or direct enforcement."

Ryan understood.

That was the protection Unkud wanted.

Not bodyguards.

Consequences.

If someone killed a factionless human, nobody cared.

If they killed a Guild creator on camera, the Streamer Guild suddenly had a reason to care.

Bo's warmth returned.

"Naturally, protection scales with value."

There it was.

Ryan smiled faintly.

At least they were honest.

"A creator with twelve subscribers should not expect a fleet to avenge them."

A few nervous laughs.

"A creator with twelve billion..."

Bo's eyes blinked.

"...creates considerably more paperwork when murdered."

More laughter.

Ryan liked him.

"Now."

Bo raised one finger.

"Broadcast requirements."

A new display appeared.

PROVISIONAL CREATOR REQUIREMENTS

ACTIVE BROADCAST: CONTINUOUS

The room stirred.

Ryan frowned.

Bo nodded.

"Yes."

A recruit raised her hand.

"Continuous as in..."

"Continuous."

"While sleeping?"

"Yes."

Several people started whispering.

Bo held up a hand.

"Privacy exclusions exist."

The display changed.

AUTOMATIC BLACKOUT ZONES:

SANITARY FACILITIES

AUTHORIZED MEDICAL PROCEDURES

CLASSIFIED MILITARY LOCATIONS

SECURITY-RESTRICTED AREAS

LEGALLY PROTECTED PRIVATE ACTIVITY

Bo smiled.

"We sell entertainment, not bathroom footage."

That got a genuine laugh.

"Your drone automatically recognizes most protected situations and disables public broadcasting. You may also request temporary privacy, though excessive voluntary blackout time negatively affects discoverability."

Ryan leaned forward.

Twenty-four-seven streaming.

That was more intense than he'd imagined.

Bo continued.

"You are not required to actively perform at all times."

The display showed creators sleeping, eating, training, shopping, traveling, and fighting.

"Audiences enjoy continuity. They enjoy watching progression. They enjoy personalities outside combat."

Ryan thought of Darkstar.

He'd mostly watched highlight streams.

Major battles.

Dungeon clears.

Boss fights.

He had never considered what streaming looked like from the creator's side.

Bo stopped in the center of the platform.

"Now we discuss your trial."

The hologram disappeared.

A single number replaced it.

10,000

Ryan stared.

"You will receive thirty local cycles."

Text appeared beneath it.

TRIAL REQUIREMENT: 10,000 SUBSCRIBERS

DEADLINE: 30 LOCAL CYCLES

"Reach ten thousand subscribers before the deadline and you qualify for a standard Guild creator contract."

Bo opened his hands.

"Fail..."

A drone appeared in holographic form.

"...and your trial ends. Guild equipment is recalled. Your provisional faction status terminates."

Silence.

Ten thousand.

Ryan wasn't sure whether that sounded enormous or tiny compared with the billions of viewers he'd just seen downstairs.

Probably both.

One applicant raised a hand.

"What happens if we die?"

Bo's eyes turned toward him.

"Your trial also ends."

Nobody laughed.

Bo smiled pleasantly.

"Though death spikes engagement quite dramatically."

Ryan stared.

Bo waited a beat.

"That was a joke."

A few people laughed uncertainly.

Ryan wasn't entirely convinced.

"Ten thousand subscribers may sound intimidating," Bo continued, "but understand the scale of our network."

The hologram expanded into an enormous web of connected worlds.

"Your broadcasts are not restricted to this planet."

Ryan's heartbeat changed.

"They are distributed throughout every region where the Guild maintains licensing agreements."

World after world appeared.

"Translation is automatic."

More appeared.

"Discovery algorithms operate across species."

Ryan slowly sat straighter.

"You are not competing for ten thousand subscribers from one city."

Bo spread his arms.

"You are competing for attention from an interstellar audience."

Ryan felt something electric move through him.

This was bigger than Earth.

Far bigger.

Bo studied the room.

Or perhaps a hundred separate eyes studied a hundred separate reactions.

"Any questions?"

Ryan raised his hand immediately.

Several applicants looked at him.

Bo gestured.

"Yes?"

"Can people on Earth watch?"

The room went quiet.

Bo's eyes focused on him.

"Where Guild distribution is authorized, yes."

Ryan's chest tightened.

"Is Earth authorized?"

Bo paused.

"Limited distribution rights currently exist through approved human networks. Availability depends upon regional broadcast restrictions and Exclipse communication policy."

Not a yes.

Not a no.

But possible.

Sarah flashed through Ryan's mind.

Sitting in his old house.

Opening a stream.

Seeing him alive.

His excitement suddenly became something else.

Something heavier.

More important.

Bo moved on.

"If there are no further questions, we will issue your trial equipment."

He turned.

A section of the wall opened.

Twenty silver spheres rested inside individual docking stations.

Ryan's eyes widened.

Drones.

Each was roughly the size of his fist, constructed from seamless silver metal around a dark central lens. Tiny lines of blue light ran around the housing.

They lifted simultaneously.

No visible propellers.

No thrusters.

Twenty drones floated into the room.

One stopped in front of Ryan.

Bo gestured toward them.

"Guild Model Seven creator drones."

A specification list appeared.

MULTISPECTRAL OPTICS

THERMAL IMAGING

DIRECTIONAL AUDIO

AUTONOMOUS TRACKING

BASIC TERRAIN MAPPING

EMERGENCY LOCATOR BEACON

SKYNET INTEGRATION

LIVE BROADCAST RELAY

Ryan's excitement grew with every line.

"Pair through your wrist interface."

Ryan raised his arm.

The drone moved closer automatically.

He touched his wristband against its silver housing.

A blue ring illuminated.

[ EXTERNAL DEVICE DETECTED ]

[ STREAMER GUILD CREATOR DRONE — MODEL 7 ]

[ PAIR DEVICE? ]

Ryan confirmed.

The drone chimed.

[ PAIRING COMPLETE ]

Then another notification appeared.

[ PROVISIONAL FACTION REGISTRATION DETECTED ]

[ STREAMER GUILD ]

A gold window immediately replaced it.

[ MANDATORY DIRECTIVE: FACTION INTEGRATION ]

[ OBJECTIVE COMPLETE ]

Ryan's eyes widened.

[ COMPLETION REWARD: 20 LOW-GRADE X ENERGY CRYSTALS ]

[ REWARD DEPOSITED ]

Twenty.

Just like that.

Ryan nearly laughed.

Yesterday, fifteen beasts.

Hours beneath two suns.

Blood.

Heat.

Running from something large enough to break trees.

Today?

Touch drone.

Receive twenty crystals.

This world made absolutely no sense.

Ryan looked at the drone.

"Follow."

It moved.

He stepped left.

It followed.

He stepped right.

It followed.

Ryan grinned.

He focused mentally.

The drone rose.

Circled his head.

Dropped toward his shoulder.

Accelerated outward.

Returned.

The control felt remarkably intuitive through Skynet.

He activated auto-tracking.

The drone floated upward and settled several feet behind his right shoulder.

A tiny camera indicator appeared at the edge of Ryan's vision.

[ CREATOR DRONE: ACTIVE ]

[ BROADCAST STATUS: STANDBY ]

Ryan stopped.

Standby.

Not live yet.

His finger hovered mentally over the option.

For years, he had imagined this moment.

Usually with better armor.

A cooler weapon.

Maybe a dramatic battlefield behind him.

Not standing in an orientation room wearing yesterday's Exclipse uniform.

Still...

His heart beat faster.

Bo's voice interrupted.

"Do not activate your public stream yet."

Ryan looked up.

Several applicants froze with him.

Bo's mouth curved into another pleasant smile.

"Unless you want your first broadcast to consist of twenty inexperienced creators staring at one another."

Ryan slowly dismissed the command.

"Good point."

"You will have ample opportunity to embarrass yourselves later."

Bo began walking toward the exit.

"Welcome to the Streamer Guild."

Ryan emerged onto the front steps less than half an hour later.

He stopped beneath the twin suns.

The silver drone stopped with him.

It hovered silently over his shoulder.

Ryan looked at it.

The drone looked back.

At least the camera did.

He slowly smiled.

He had expected resistance.

An audition.

A combat test.

Someone laughing at the idea that an Unranked human could become a creator.

Instead, he had walked in and been handed a trial.

Not a career.

Not success.

A chance.

That was enough.

Ryan opened his interface.

Several new categories had appeared.

[ CREATOR PROFILE ]

Subscribers: 0

Current Viewers: 0

Peak Viewers: 0

Total Watch Time: 0

Trial Status: ACTIVE

Trial Remaining: 29:23:41:08

Subscriber Requirement: 0 / 10,000

Ryan stared at the zero.

Ten thousand people.

Thirty days.

Yesterday, nobody on this planet knew his name.

Now he needed ten thousand people to care enough to remember it.

His grin widened.

"Okay."

The drone adjusted its angle toward him.

"Ten thousand."

He opened his full status.

[ STATUS ]

Name: Ryan Lowell

Species: Human

Sex: Male

Cultivation Rank: Unranked

Qi Points: 1 / 360

Rank One Progress: 1 / 40

Talent: Absolute Energy Barrier

Strength: 7

Constitution: 7

Dexterity: 8

Speed: 7

Mental Energy: 8 / 8

X Energy: 9 / 9

Skills: None

Unique Skills: None

Faction: Streamer Guild — Provisional Creator

Subscribers: 0

Current Viewers: 0

A separate notification remained beneath the status panel.

[ FACTION INTEGRATION REWARD: +20 LOW-GRADE X ENERGY CRYSTALS ]

Ryan dismissed it.

Twenty crystals opened options.

A sword.

A spear.

Ammunition.

Better food.

Information.

Maybe wilderness map access.

For the first time since arriving, he had enough money that every decision didn't feel like choosing which necessity to sacrifice.

But equipment could wait a few minutes.

Ryan opened the squad channel.

RYAN: Got accepted.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then Jessica responded.

JESSICA: Already?

RYAN: Trial membership. 30 days. Need 10,000 subscribers.

Ben answered.

BEN: TEN THOUSAND???

Ryan laughed.

RYAN: Also got a free recording drone.

BEN: I hate your faction.

Raven's message appeared.

RAVEN: Did the directive complete?

RYAN: Yep. 20 crystals deposited.

Then Dezzy.

DEZZY: Useful. Our applications are still ongoing.

Ryan typed:

RYAN: How's everyone else doing?

He sent the message.

Then looked toward the city.

The silver drone hovered beside him.

His own camera.

His own channel.

His first audience waiting somewhere beyond zero.

Ryan began walking down the steps.

A thought occurred to him.

He stopped.

Turned toward the drone.

And smiled.

"Skynet."

[ AWAITING QUERY. ]

"Open creator settings."

A new interface unfolded.

At the very top was a blank field.

[ CREATOR NAME ]

Ryan's smile slowly disappeared.

He hadn't thought about that.

Every streamer needed a name.

Darkstar.

One word.

Simple.

Memorable.

Ryan stared at the empty field.

Then continued down the steps.

He had until tomorrow's hunt to figure it out.

Because the next time he walked into that wilderness, he wasn't going alone.

He was bringing an audience.