The room was indeed an ordinary room, except that the chairs and tables had been rearranged to make it look more like a classroom than an office. Game Over had specially built lecture theatres to teach trainees, so she didn't see the point in using this dingy room in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the room was a girl of the same species, dressed like the adults. She looked a little dishevelled and had an extremely confused expression on her face. She was holding a piece of paper by one corner, as though she was barely concentrating enough not to drop it.

One of the scholar-priests walked up to her and pointed to the girl, telling Lunarian what sounded like a long string of instructions in his native language. Her tutor yelled something admonishing at him.

“I apologise for my friend, he's a traditionalist. Well... even more traditionalist than the others. He refuses to speak other languages.”

“Please explain to me what is going on here.” she ordered, “Who are these people? Did they do this to the desks? Why are they rearranging Game Over's furniture as they please?”

“Ah, you see, they have a licence. Any organisation that Game Over trusts and that has a legitimate reason to need premises on the Screen can apply for one. It costs money, of course.” he said, “But our home world has had an understanding with Game Over for millennia. We use the rooms during our exams.”

“Do you delete the people who fail?” she asked instantly.

“Why, yes, we do. But we thought that up for ourselves, don't think Game Over can take the credit for it.” he said, “Now, I have arranged for a little test of your abilities here.”

“Will you delete me if I fail?”

“No, no, you see, you will be ordering the deletions.” he said, “This girl doesn't know it yet, but she failed that exam she has in her hand. I want you to mark her for delete.”

“Standard trainee rules apply?” she asked, “I don't know the rules on your home planet. And I won't ever be expected to use them in my career on the Game Over Screen. Planetary laws don't apply here, only interplanetary law and our own laws.”

“You are quite correct. Standard trainee rules it is.”

“Show me that paper.”

There was a barked order that was subsequently bounced back and forth between the academicians until one relented and yelled at the girl to hand the paper to Lunarian. She gave it a cursory glance, wincing at the girl's spidery handwriting.

“I thought so. Too short to count as an exam.” she said, “That is a test, not an exam. Tests are not important enough to warrant a deletion order.”

The tutor relayed this to the other priests, setting off a tirade of yelling. Finally, after several minutes, the oldest scholar-priest, the traditionalist, hopped off the desk he was perched on and shuffled over to her.

“Nawat.” he pronounced, jabbing a finger at her, “Nawat Tandle.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, sweating slightly.

“Its a name.” explained the tutor, “He's renamed you. Something like 'cold as ice, but the lightning flows through you'.”

“I don't want a new name! You can't just give me a new name! My name is Lunarian!” she yelled.

“He means it as a complement. Renaming happens all the time in our culture. Names are very important. There are some more traditional towns you can't even go in unless your name is four letters or less.”

“My name is Lunarian!” she repeated firmly. She threw the paper to the ground, provoking a high-pitched chirrup from the girl, who glared at her balefully as she picked it up. Her own eyes looked around for an opening. She wanted to be away from these insane people. Nawat Tandle. It sounded worse than 'End'. It was bad enough being Lunarian.

“Ed fo, Nawat Tandle. Rever Mahlay.” the priest stepped out of her way.

“Time to go.” said the tutor, walking out.

“Will they delete that girl anyway?” asked Lunarian.

He shook his head, “Its the same in their rules. They knew the answer to the question. They were just checking you knew it. Now come on, we still have to go to the Disciplinary Office. Or did you think that was a ruse to get you to come here? I haven't forgotten about your cheating.”

“I wasn't cheating.” she said automatically.

“Of course you weren't. I hope you won't have to persuade a disciplinary court of that. You don't have a leg to stand on, Tandle.”

“If you believed I was cheating, you wouldn't have bothered with what you just did.” she said, “Because if I have been cheating, I'll be deleted, and all your efforts will have been completely wasted.”

“Do you really think so?” he asked, shaking his head, before adding, “We'll see.”

--