“A great dream with a bad team is nothing more than a nightmare.” ( John C. Maxwell) I wake up early from a night of bombardment from this quote. I had a grand dream of the football field bountifully built with solid gold and I was the best ever goalkeeper but in the wrong team! At six o’clock sharp a guard escorts me to a virtual football training room. The colossal ex-cannibal footballers are there. My nerd-friend their football captain Romano is there though not allowed to play. A giant with a mouthful of gleaming teeth sticks his face close to mine and growls, “You will be our goal keeper!” So the nightmare comes true -I am in the wrong team!
The rule is that for each missed goal I will lose 25% of my share of gold if the Dronesville’s team wins. If the ex-cannibal team wins, they will keep their field of gold, retain Romano and take me as a reserve for a new season. The king will play as goalkeeper for the Dronesville’s team.
Whilst coaching this team of surprisingly very dexterous players in the virtual football game, my lightning-fast multitasking mind works on possible options. There is no option but to make this team lose for the sake of Romano’s and my freedom. But I need to make sure that the ex-cannibals lose not more than one goal to cut my share of gold loss to the minimum 25%.
The English educated young nerd king about my age, well-versed with the latest technology is having a hilarious time online with the Dronesville’s virtual football team, all former teachers retirees (ages between 65-85). They seem to love him (impressed by his perfect English) as their new goalie. Their former goalie my boss the English lord is unavailable in a mysterious undisclosed somewhere.
My Indy dad gives me good tips through the foldable plasma robot stuck to my chest. “Look boy, stop looking gloomy. It will be great fun, I promise you! Don’t worry about your head.”
“What’s wrong with my head?” I ask. But my dad is offline. SiZu, my AI voice assistant answers, “Roasted heads were the ex-cannibals’ favorite delicacy dish in olden days.”
“I still can’t understand. Why doesn’t the king stop them occupying the gold field and holding a hostage?” I regret this question immediately as SiZu faithfully uploads the whole historical political and military situation of the country. Apparently the ex-cannibals are longstanding powerful allies of the king’s family and he allows them autonomy in some matters.
When the clock strikes six at the great gold hall we are all ready to take our virtual position. The Dronesville’s team members are online. My dad has installed the latest technology for them in Dronesville too. When the teams start playing it’s truly fun for us the millennials. The holographic effect presents a virtual life show of the teams playing as if they are in the filed. The players are all dressed in their football gears. Dronesville in bright jade green and the ex-cannibals in bright orange.
The Dronesville’s retirees have shrunk in sizes and are like children compared to their opponents. But they come out with a fabulous high school cheerleaders entourage duly dance and sing the Dronesville’s song. The ex-cannibals too have their own cheer squad all wrapped in Tuareg coverings. Judging from their size, stomping dance and blood curdling chant they’ve got to be guys.
By now my nerd chat cronies are sniggering uncontrollably. One guy has the audacity to laugh aloud with his phone mike on! Yes, my dad links them up with interactive video live stream through the Dronesville’s satellite as supporters.
Who I wonder will be the referees? Hahaha, who else but the two German-French high stakeholders in our prospected gold investment dressed in Tuareg? I don’t know how they manage to persuade the king to agree. It’s got to be my dad behind the deal. The Gen.Z kid dresses as a mascot for the ex-cannibals. The Dronesville’s mascot dog Gracie does a cameo appearance holographically.
A crony who is overseas and misses the match asks me later and here is our conversation. How is the match? You are dying to know? Honestly I cannot put words to what happens that day. I have no recall of it after that disastrous event. You are not going to persuade me to remember. Why? Because I am subjective about it I cannot give you a fair description. The score? Zero for both sides. Look, why don’t you listen to Gracie’s report? She is a faithful unbiased observer. So, for those who miss the event here is The Dronesville’s dog, Gracie’s report.
(To be continued: by Gracie’s report)