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An incandescent dragon.

It wasn't its size or shape that caught Marzia's attention – no, in that regard it wasquite similar to the other phoenix and fluorescent fishes that surrounded it. But that was the fire it was covered in. They were not simple reddish flames, like the first bird that had appeared, but a mixture of an infinite number of shades. It was shining. At each of its movements, the fire also seemed to move, as an entity in its own right.

Marzia couldn't get her eyes off the show. This flying dragon had something special – but she couldn't quite put it into words. She was not the only one to have noticed it either: most of the inhabitants gathered in the square also followed the machine with their eyes, as it slowly crossed the sky.

Without even realizing it, the young woman took a step forward. She did not want to lose sight of the dragon. Her eyes shone from the flames of the robot dragon. And finally, she understood.

Yes, the flames, though composed of millions of shades, were simply stunning. But that was not what hypnotized Marzia.

While the other machines were only copies of reality, this dragon was quite the opposite. He seemed alive – his dark eyes reflected a glimmer of intelligence. Marzia's forgot the breathe. Now that this idea had appeared in her mind, she couldn't get away from it. She felt the dragon scrutinizing her.

"What are you doing?"

The touch of Rhysa's hand on the bare skin of her arm brought her suddenly back to reality.

"Splendid, isn't it? You wouldn't see a show like that in the Capital," said her friend.

Marzia smiled, trying to regain her spirits. But her eyes still shone from the reflection of the flames when she replied:

"It's... it's quite something."

There were fewer and fewer machines in the sky. The young woman, suddenly curious, glanced at the circle of participants. 

She had to find the dragon's creator.

But she stopped as a new thought crossed her mind – why should she find the identity of the one manipulating the dragon? The magic of the evening would remain if she did not try to know everything, she rebuked herself. Her parents had always reproached her for her curiosity. After all, wasn't it better to keep a little magic in a universe where everything else had an answer?

But these thoughts did not prevent Marzia from scrutinizing each member of the circle, in search of a clue. Something, anything, that would prove the identity of the dragon's creator. In vain.

She finally turned to Rhysa, who was actively talking to other residents. She noticed the young woman's movement and her smile stretched out as she invited her into the conversation:

"So, Wolf, which one do you think will win?"

"I loved the phoenix. And the transparent seahorse," she started.

The lively conversations around her reached her ears again. The bubble that had surrounded her a few minutes earlier had completely disappeared: she felt again the contact peopole grazing her. She breathed the clean, healthy air, so different from the Capital.

"But I think my favourite is definitely the dragon."

A boy, the one who spoke to Rhysa just before, uttered an exclamation and clapped his hand. The young woman guessed that he was the creator of one of the machines she had mentioned. Suddenly, her breathing slowed down. Was he the one who made the dragon?

"Thank you! I designed the hippocampus!"

"Congratulations, then," she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

Rhysa shook her head, amused. She glanced towards the circle that had not dispersed.

"Who do you think created the dragon? Because I agree with Marzia, it was the most impressive one."

Marzia glanced at the creator of the hippocampus, but he did not seem offended. He even approved of the words of his friend with a movement of the head. She followed Rhysa's gaze towards the other participants. She tried to stare at them one by one despite the movements of the crowd around them.

"I have no idea. I imagine we will soon know, if he wins," said someone.

Marzia smiled when children ran past her, snatching her from her contemplation of the participants. One of them held between his fingers a miniature coloured bird, which he threw in front of him. Another controlled it with the help of a tiny screen.

This competition really seemed to be an important event in the city. She glanced at her friend to find out more:

"So, this competition takes place every year?"

"Yeah. I think I told you the story of Zetenia, didn't I?"

Marzia paused to think, and her memories quickly returned to her.

"The planet was meant to be home to only robots and relating technology factories, but the engineers' families were so pleased that they decided to stay and invite their friends to come too."

Rhysa nodded slowly, proud. It was obvious that she was passionate about the story. Marzia vaguely remembered that her friend had studied history before giving up and moving here. Obviously, history was her passion. She could easily understand: if her parents had not encouraged her to study interplanetary travel, this is probably the area she would have chosen as well.

"Exactly. Most of the residents are descendants of these engineers and their friends. This competition represents a memory... history of the planet is celebrated. Not only do they pay tribute to their ancestors by continuing to create machines, but it is also a way to discover new talents.

"Like the creator of the dragon.", Marzia could not help but intervene. 

Rhysa glanced at her, amused?

"Yeah. The winner wins a trip to the Capital where he can visit the most advanced factories in the universe."

This statement swept away the excitement that Marzia felt. A trip to the Capital planet... it was not really a dream price, in her opinion. She quickly rebuked herself: for a simple inhabitant of Zetenia, it was a golden professional opportunity. Not everyone had high-ranking parents and a reserved place in the Capital.

"Tomorrow, we'll show you one more cool spot in town and trust me, this one's gonna be... interesting."

Rhysa glanced at her friends, who approved. Marzia raised an eyebrow: even if she had only known them for a week, she suspected that they did not have the same conception of what was «interesting» as her. But she promised herself that she would find out everything there was to discover during this year of freedom, and nothing was going to stop her.

After greeting the group one last time, Marzia passed through the less and less crowded square to return home. She lived outside the city centre, a little higher up, but the journey on foot did not bother her. Her thoughts were always occupied by the splendid spectacle she had just witnessed.

As she walk cautiously to avoid shoving someone, Marzia did not know what made her raise her head. But her eyes landed on a figure in the middle of the circle of participants. His attention was fixed on the tablet in his hands. He straightened his head, and his gaze suddenly meet hers.

Half the square separated them. Yet Marzia was persuaded to see flames reflected in his eyes. Flames in millions of shades, which she quickly recognized. The dragon.

A group passed in front of him and broke their eyes contact. Marzia came out of her torpor and went on her way, without daring to look behind her.