The virtual world dissolved around Neville in a cascade of fragmenting light, and he regained awareness of reality.
The cool interior of the pod, the soft hum of the neural interface powering down, the distant sound of researchers murmuring in the observation room.
He pulled himself out of the pod with shaky legs, his muscles protesting despite having done nothing more strenuous than lie still.
Grayson emerged from his own pod; his eyes found Neville's immediately.
"I told you I'd win at least once," Neville said, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice.
"You did win twice." Grayson's tone was dry but somehow warm.
Neville laughed, the tension of the match bleeding away. "Your face when I fake-surrendered was worth every second of running for my life."
"I wasn't aware you're that obsessed with winning."
"It wasn't that obsessed. It's just human to want to win at any point in time in life."
"Ah, is that so? Then, I apologize."
