'I am more important than you,' I say. I am engaged in a very useful discussion with Simix. It's in fact so useful, that he's given me - though under some protest - his tablet to make my position more clear.

I write down his name, making sure to put the last two letters as capital letters. My own name I put below it, making a fat, bold stroke of the 1.

'Look. At this I point my finger to the differences. 'I am clearly number one, and according to the Roman numerals on Earth, you are number nine.'

Simix grumbles something back about Roman writing is - like the rest of Earth - no longer existing, but I choose to ignore that. With my nose in the air, I hand him back the tablet. Unfortunately, I'm not very good with the technique of it, or I might now have a chance to hack my way out of the planet.

A beautiful piece of technology in the form of the cyborg Zandr makes an indeterminate sound. He sits directly across from me and his knees touch mine, but before this he was silent, so I watch him carefully from under my eyelashes: maybe that way I'll find out what he's after. However, I only see his smoothed face and so I shrug. Where previously he had a bare upper body - making his metal shoulder, arm and waist easily visible - he now wears a black shirt over equally dark pants. What material it's made of I don't know, but the color alone emphasizes his menacing appearance, giving me the image of a pirate projected in my head.

This cylinder who is transporting us to the arena is a lot more luxurious than the one I took earlier with the Plantane. There is more room for the three of us and most importantly, it has a normal floor. At the moment of my contemplation, the tube comes to a stop, then it says 'arena'.

My thoughts, which I successfully distracted earlier, start grinding again at full speed. As I exit, I find myself in a compact, silent room with a single door. The cylinder whooshes up through a designated hole and then it's gone.

'Lord Zandr.' A shrill voice reaches us from hip height and I stare at an excited little man, who is almost bouncing up and down with obvious enthusiasm. He resembles a garden gnome in detail. From his red hat and blue overalls, to the pointed shoes that curl up at the toes. He is only missing a fishing rod and I have never before - not even in the archives that exist on Earth and which I sometimes search when I am feeling nostalgic - seen a garden gnome with glowing, lava-colored skin. He does not appear to be flammable because he is holding a screen, which he is tapping furiously on. 'Three people, sir?'

As he nods, I wonder if Zandr normally brings his entire harem with him. That's gonna be crowded in a cylinder. The gnome looks me up and down, his enthusiasm replaced by a raised eyebrow. I can do that too and when I mirror his movement, he quickly looks away. To be sure, should I tell him my name so he knows I'm number one?

'Follow me, please,' he interrupts my thoughts, then opens the door. Zandr grabs my wrist with his normal hand and he holds me so tight that I look at him in protest. Apparently it's the day of raised eyebrows, because he also participates in that. Of course he doesn't say anything else and I decide to remain silent as well.

Simix walks so close to me that his leaves touch me, but at the same time I am surrounded by so much sound that I no longer pay attention to it. I have reached the arena and it is immediately clear to me that it must be one of the most populair places on Serail, talking about crowded.

Zandr doesn't give me time to get used to it. Instead he pulls me along with him. For once I'm happy with his firm grip. We are at the top of a gigantic structure, which at first glance consists of many compartments with rows of chairs. The only point of peace is at the bottom, where an empty circle filled with green sand forms the center of the arena. The core is walled with steel, with two closed doors opposite each other.

This time I think back to the ancient Greeks, who were so fond of sports and games, and built grand arenas for it.

Lord Zandr leads me down some stairs until we are almost in the middle of the rows. The matte black cubes there are boxes and we take a seat in one of them. Actually, Simix and Zandr take a seat and I jump up and down excitedly in front of the gate that the garden gnome closed behind us before he disappeared. Finally I can take a good look at my surroundings and there is so much to see that I focus all my attention on that. The thousands of aliens swarming around the arena like ants all look like they've done their very best to look awesome, and I think they've all succeeded.

Involuntarily I fold my orange robe a little tighter around me. Luckily my hair is fine.

'Ah, Firj,' I hear Zandr say from the relative peace in the cube. A light blue Yrach'kwa struggles out of the crowded aliens and greets the lord with chiming sounds from her three mouths. She is accompanied by two Boltrunians, each standing on one side of the cube.

I look at Firj. Just like Earth, Yrach is no more, so I only know her race from stories. My mouth is inelegantly open as I take mental notes. She uses all six of her tentacles as legs during her walk. She opens the gate and slides past me without even looking at me, as all her attention is focused on the gentleman. When she gives the cyborg a big hug, she wraps all her tentacles around him. Of course, I don't known Zandr that long, but I already know that he has a serious character and I see he likes this Firj very much when I look at his eyes. I'v never seen them so friendly – almost loving. Is she also part of his harem? I don't really know how to feel about that.

'You're even here before I am,' the Yrach'kwa chimes, having positioned herself so tightly next to Zandr that it's a good thing his thighs don't need to breathe. I turn around quite abruptly and my gaze wanders back to the spectacle in front of me. The right Boltrunian is positioned so that I just can't see anything and I shift in annoyance. Just then, an all-pervasive sound is heard, reverberating in the farthest corners of the arena. It is immediately clear to me that it is a starting signal because everyone promptly makes even more noise and continues to flutter around like a headless chicken. The chaos is complete and while I ignore the guards, I absorb the vibrant energy with a big smile.

It's getting quieter in the stands and a feeling of anticipation dawns on me. I clasp my hands around the fence and feast my eyes.

Suddenly I notice a marching sound, which becomes more and more intense. The large roller door bordering the green sand on the left is opened and now the mighty sounds slowly but surely fill the entire arena. It sounds so in sync that I'm not at all surprised to see the robots walking from the depths of the arena straight into the ring. They are about two meters long and their metal parts are well proportioned. Their thorax is attached to their pelvis by an iron spine, making them look more human than most other races around me.

The robots start walking in various patterns while chanting a song.

I stretch myself so far that I almost fall over the fence. The right guard pushes me back so hard that I can't keep my balance and I stumble backwards. I'm already preparing myself for a sore tailbone when a large arm wraps around my stomach and yanks me backwards. I land on Zandr's lap and to my shame I let out a shocked yelp into the confined space.