Human is dead

The training room in Los Angeles was still dim when morning hit. Nathan Cole sat in his chair with the replay from the night before still frozen on the screen. He had not gone live. He had not joined voice chat. He just let his headphones hang around his neck and watched one message after another roll through the comment window. "Human is dead." "washed Human." "Is he still playing?" "Europe and Korea already solved this game. North America should stop pretending." He had been hearing versions of those lines for three years. Three years earlier, Nathan had been the prodigy. In North American open events, invitationals, and practice rooms, his Human had dominated with precise Fast Expand openings and sharp Blacksmith timing.