Turner. Jonathan De Montfort

was a set of buttons on the right-hand wall. The master pressed one, and the room jolted. Hero realised that it was in fact a lift.

      ‘I won’t lie, this part of the training is quite intense.’

      The elevator lurched to a stop, and the master opened the door.

      The cold, dry rush of conditioned air on Hero’s face smelled stale and sweaty, like week-old laundry. There was a constant whoosh of air from a large inflow pipe on the ceiling. The nervous knot in his stomach clenched as he realised he was looking at another gym—an advanced, ultra-high-tech gym. Mirrors down the front wall faced a row of bikes and, behind that, a bank of running machines. It was a strange contrast with the old- fashioned gym upstairs, giving him the impression of moving forward in time.

      ‘Ooh, the infamous Hero,’ called Emma from one of the training bikes.

      Jane waved from a running mill.

      ‘In here, we keep the oxygen level lower, simulating training at three thousand metres of altitude,’ the Light Master said.

      ‘Why?’ he asked.

      ‘It stimulates your body to be more efficient with oxygen. When you’re at virtual sea level, you’ll find you’re capable of a lot more, both physically and mentally.’

      The air had a strange tinge, as if all the colours were more vibrant than normal. Every surface seemed to have a sharper edge, as if he were at the very edge of needing sleep, but without any sense of tiredness.

      Maybe that’s why they call it ‘getting high’.

      ‘Get on one of the bikes,’ said the master.

      Hero climbed gingerly onto the nearest bike.

      ‘Put your feet in the straps.’

      The bike beeped then whirred, and the saddle height and distance from the handlebars adjusted by themselves. Hero sat up nervously.

      ‘It automatically fits itself to the perfect riding position.’ The master turned and walked to a box in a corner of the gym.

      A projector screen descended from the ceiling.

      Emma looked across, drawing air through her teeth, and grinned. ‘I’m sorry, Hero. This is gonna hurt.’

      He swallowed hard. He hated being sick, especially all over the floor. He’d have to clean it up then, and that would be even worse.