(no subject)
Hello. This is not an entry of stupidity, as my others are. I need constructive criticism so far on my story. Here it is.
It was the game of the century. Everyone was talking about it and me. Of course, they would, I was the champion. I was so sick of the game; I just wanted it to be over. Why was I playing? I was a child, only 14 at the time. When I started I was only two. Two and I was in the major leagues. The leagues of Mind-Play. We played a game, went to the awful reception, practiced for five days, slept for ten, and then did it all over again. Most would kill to live our lives but I was gravely dead in my mind. Maybe if I lived on Earth it would be different. But I could not live there. I am not human; I am of a nearly dead species called Dumanies. We live on Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, under the layer of ice that is our atmosphere.
I wish I lived on Earth, specifically in America because there they couldn’t sell me! Here selling your children was a sign of wealth, dignity, refinement. Personally, I’ve never understood it. Anyway, my parents sold me to some farmer dumany. He was a very nice man; I wish I were still with him. But he died after only a year of having me and left me in the care of his son, whom by the way, he did not sale. Of course noticing my nub painting was perfected and that the scouts were offering 85,681,254 Dulas for players, he sold me to a team broker. What happened then? Well, I went into surgery. I was a perfectly healthy two year old and they sent me to get surgery, just one, of the million things that will permanently affect my life because of Mind-Play. Well, first they drill into your head until they hit the direct middle of your mind. This is extremely hard; everyone has a different position of the brain. Some of our brains are even in our backs so it was hard to find.
Anyway, once they located my brain they literally, created an outlet to it. There is a special cord that is plugged into this outlet during games. The game; let me explain. First our minds are frozen; not frozen like beef but like the humans freeze each other with that toxin. It spreads through your veins, or in my case, body, and paralyzes you. You can see and hear but moving is another story. They don’t even give you any numbing medicine. Forgive me; I’ve not experienced these human pleasures but merely heard tales from my owners. So, if I do not know the name of something, I am sorry. I will try to describe it with as much detail as possible. Moving right along, after they paralyze us they plug up our brains. This venom has a strange affect on the Dumany brain; it freezes our thoughts. We can interpret sounds and visions but anything else is off limits. Maybe it is because of Europa is his weird positioning. I’m not sure but I am up to investigation. The cord that plugs into our “mind” filters through our thoughts and pulls out the most emotional, intimate, creative image it can find. There is a panel of four judgers who rate us from y to ), y being highest. The scale is as follows in human equivalence:
y ⌂ ■ ╨ ซ Å )
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
We compete in teams. My team is the Carinals. We are known for our fearlessness, but we can’t take the credit. It is merely the technology. I mean it has the ability to interpret Dumany emotions and pull out the most critical for our survival. Like I said, we are a dying species. Europa is our father. He is our religion. In the ancient, before time, prophecy, Europa said that the young would be the witnesses of hope in times of need. Make what you will of it; to me it is saying that we, the youth, will be the compassion that keeps us alive. But the “Government,” if you could call it that, thinks it means that you can turn religion into a multi-Billion Dulas earning game.
It’s actually a sort of scandal. The government is taking our Mind-Play and piecing together a way to keep us alive but no one knows. I figured it out by doing some independent investigating when I was supposed to be frozen asleep. No one noticed, no harm done.
After the “game” we would go to the horrid reception. It was just a room jammed full of grimy smoke, martinis, cheap entertainment, and people who annoyed you out of your liberal limits. Most of the time people would randomly walk up to me and say something like, “Well, great job out there, son. You did a fantastic job. Keep that up and I might just consider you for my team.” Why would I want to be on their team? I don’t even want to play to the game but if I have to I would much rather keep the team I’m on than trade.