They call her the Death Spider.
Eight go up; one comes down – alive.
These days it’s a sort of justice. When everything else seemed to fail they unveiled the Spider. One person in each pod. A murderer staring down a rapist; the woman who drowned all eight of her children lining up a spotty young kid responsible for the death of 300 teachers on a galactic hopper. They are the dregs of our society. One has a chance to live. For that the other seven must die.
Up it goes.
Within seconds it will be a blur. How they manage to see, or do what they have to, is a miracle in itself. Sometimes nobody comes down alive. That never bothers those watching. There will always be plenty more waiting to take their place in the pods. Each is armed with lasers, throwing blades, knifes, flamers. As the pods swing faster and closer the carnage begins. Onto the concrete below the blood pours, limbs fall, screams echo.
It’s sickening. Disgusting. Horrifying.
However, it’s also the most watched show on television, and in 2232 ratings trump any remaining traces of humanity in this rotten world. I never miss an episode.