And One Who Waters Will Himself Be Watered.

A strong person swivelled him around, and revealed himself to the formerly hooded one, now "Hawaiian shirt-and-beige shorts-wearing" one. It was one of the men that had captured him on the beach in the night, the youngest one with the platinum-coloured hair.

"What are you doing here? How did you get out?", he asked him, visibly flustered, annoyed. "We locked everything that had a lock, and could possibly be locked, at the precinct", he said, frantically going over what could have happened, while searching around them for any witnesses to the scene he was making.

He had had enough of this guy and his partner and gambled on being firm with him to flush him out. "Listen, kid. I do not know who you are, or with who's authority you think you have to lock me up in some small-time holding cell in the middle of some abandoned ghost town-suburb. Just leave me alone to get new clothes, and I will not approach and attain any legal assistance", he said, strong-handing him to his best ability.

The rogue agent subtly flashed a badge on the inside of his jacket to him. "Look, mister", he half-mumbled and grabbed his arm again. "Just come back in, and we will tell you anything you would want to know", he said, trying to lure him back to the cell.

The shorts-wearing one tore his arm out of the officer's hand, and turned his back to him, and kept walking to the stand the shop owner had sent him towards.

"Listen, mister. We just want to keep you safe and ask you a couple of questions", the officer said, trying to convince him that he had a noble cause he was pursuing.

"Tell me right here and now then. Who are you, and why did you lock me up?", he said, as he had stopped, turned around and re-entered the conversation. The young officer went silent and had a pause to think and weigh his next words carefully.

Right next to them, a stagehand was checking some cables and wires, as he was setting up monitors and securing the stage. Only now, he saw a great LED screen up in the ceiling. It had a timer that had soon run out of minutes and seconds. It also reported the weather, a whopping 42 degrees Celsius outside. A couple of important people, or so they seemed, were adjusting each other's bow ties and making throat-clearing noises, probably preparing to speak from the stage.

"It's for your own safety, mister. I beg you to trust me...", the officer could mutter out, before he was speaking out in thin air, to no one. The former prisoner was already at the "Hotpoint" stand.

"Good day, mister. How can I assist you on this fine, but hot day?", the stand man joked, making a poor, lazy pun relating to the temperature outside, and the name of his business.

"Good day, sir. The clothes store guy said you could get me points?", he said and pointed to where he had come from. "I am new in town, you see. Did not even know what these 'points' were until a couple of minutes ago", he added.

The stand man had him lay his arm on the counter and took out a laser scanner of some kind. He pointed it to the stranger's arm, to his wrist, expecting a reaction. The 'scannee' looked on, scoffing.

"Haha, sir, I am pretty sure I have no chip or device of any kind in my arm. You will have to...", he rambled out arrogantly, and then stopped, absolutely mind-boggled as a result of the 'beep' the scanner made.

"There you have your points. Welcome back, mister Xi!", the stand man said, jolly as ever.

"Mister 'Xi'? What? Do I have a chip in my... What the..? What..?", he mumbled, confused, looking in sheer disbelief at something on the inside of his skin that was glowing and lighting up. The stand man just smiled on, not really interested in answering any questions. He turned around, baffled, unsure of what to do or think, then he realized the reason he had gone there in the first place, snapped back to himself, and wandered over back to she clothing shop keeper.

He got there and supposed he had to hold his arm out to the shopkeeper for him, in order to pay for the stuff he was already wearing. A crowd of people had begun gathering in the tens of rows of chairs, and they were lathering up with sunscreen while snacking on crunchy stuff from the loudest plastic bags that had ever been created. Huge announcements were rolling over the screens all around the hall, counting down towards something called 'The Selection'. He paid up, said his thanks, and knew he was pretty famished. He proceeded to accept a free sample of the crunchy snacks that were being handed out by a young girl in an apron, and he took a seat himself.

The young girl from before, all of a sudden appeared at his side and took an empty seat close to him - a seat or two in between them. She smiled innocently at him and began working industriously at some stringy braid she was carrying around in her pocket, and he looked over at her father to acknowledge his guarding gaze while representing his business at the busiest hour. Lights flashed in sky blue and neon green and gold from the stage, and a pair of flashy jazzed up hosts burst on stage.

"Welcome, everybody!", the female host over-enthusiastically exclaimed. "... to the -", as she and her co-host began shouting in unison: "509th Sunny Rumble Scramble Tumble of the South-West!", they shouted, and stepped aside to unveil the animated logo for their contest on the screen behind them, as pyrotechnics and confetti clouded the sight to the stage. The light from the roof had been shut off, and huge spotlights were the only sources of light around. He was consumed by the show onstage, but then started wondering if he was immensely under-dressed for this spectacle - but a quick overview of his fellow audience settled his vanities. Holiday clothing all abound as if this was a show on a cheesy, Caribbean cruise.

"As you all know, this is the greatest show we have here in the Dome whenever there is a collective shut-in, like the one we have now", the male host informed in a slightly calmer tone, to bring a nerve of seriousness into it all. "That is why we need to have some fun, right?", he asked, and the audience went absolutely crazy, stood to their feet, shouting and cheering in affirmation and excitement. "This time, the subject is 'confession of sins and atonement', traits we would all love to see in our fellow Domesmen, right?", he continued. Food and drink being thrown in the air, and raining down on others, to the stranger's disapproval.

"Any volunteers?", they asked from the stage. "No, just kidding. We will, as always, pull five people from all of you who are 16 years old or older. As you know, the winner of our random contest will win a supply of rides with the EC service for themselves and two friends or your family for a whole year, as well as immunity for the next 'SuRuST' - and the loser will suffer a whole other fate", they said, making cheering noises to jest the audience on, while wiping away a mixture of perspiration and show makeup - spotlights flashing violently, the audience in ecstasy, loud music erupting from the loudspeakers all around the entire locale.

He felt a sudden swelling of nervousness and anxieties from his insides and did not want to be pulled up on stage for something he had no idea of what was. He thought hard about what the 'punishment' could be, as he remembered his neighbouring on-looker. The little girl seemed relaxed while working on her little artwork and almost did not notice what was unfolding in front of her.

"As ever, the contestants will not be selected publicly", the female host noted. "They will be selected during this next hour, and their individual games will commence immediately after the show has concluded" - which did not make him feel any better at all. What could this game be? How does one win it, if selected as a contestant?

They concluded their initial presentation and had a musical guest come on to perform, but he did not notice and kept looking around him nervously, looking for hints or any clues as to what the game is, and who could have been selected.