The Inceptrix Revealed

The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it's as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues -- Terry Pratchett (dob 4/28/1948) an English author of fantasy novels best known for the Discworld series of about 40 volumes, as quoted in the tenth entry, Moving Pictures.

Everything was a little hazy. I had been dreaming, and my dream was remarkably similar to a movie from 1987 starring Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito. How odd, I thought. It seemed quite real, but couldn't possibly be.

"He's coming out of it", I heard a familiar feminine voice say.

Looking up, I saw a familiar face. It was the nurse who had put me under for transport to the prison hospital. Currently I was strapped to a gurney with an IV stuck in my arm. The gurney was in the back of an ambulance that was currently in motion, transporting me to jail, presumably. The ambulance driver turned around and glanced at me. To my amazement it was my friend Jed.

"Jed?" I asked, strongly disbelieving that my friend had returned again.

"Yes, that is your friend Jed", the woman confirmed. "My name is Jennifer Garafellow, and I'm a friend as well".

"You can trust her, Dervish", Jed said, not taking his eyes off the road this time.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We are transporting you to the prison hospital along with a police escort", Jennifer explained. "But we are going to do our best to make sure you're diverted from that destination".

Exasperated, I cried, "I still don't understand!"

"He can't wrap his brain around what you told him", Jennifer observed. "It is just too unbelievable" she concluded.

"You got that right", I acknowledged. "I must be nuts, because I am positive I saw Jed disintegrate before my eyes", I added, certain that was the crucial evidence that proved beyond any doubt I was completely insane.

"Disintegrate?" Jed said, laughing. "No, Dervish, I simply disconnected from the Inceptrix".

"What the frick is the Inceptrix", I naturally inquired.

"The Inceptrix is what we call the virtually reality program we are all currently plugged into. It's like The Maxtrix from the film of the same name as I explained to you previously. Truth be told, you are very much like the Neo character portrayed by Keanu Reeves in that movie".

"Yeah, right", I said. "Me being completely insane makes a lot more sense".

"Come on Dervish", a frustrated Jed complained. "I've just about had it with your refusal to accept the truth. Remember there was only one scene in The Maxtrix where Neo refused to believe that what Morpheus was telling him".

"I remember", I said. "Neo threw up, passed out, and then, when he woke up he accepted his situation. But that was after being removed from the Maxtrix. Don't I need to choose the red pill first?"

"No", Jed answered. "This is the Inceptrix, NOT the Matrix. I told you that already. Things work a little differently here".

"So how does it work?" I asked.

"First we have to get you to accept the truth. Only then can you be disconnected and physically removed. If your mind is not ready to accept reality as it is outside the Inceptrix there is a strong possibility you'll go crackers".

Crackers? Certainly Jed must mean that I could go insane. Question is, how did I know that did not already happen?

I was about to ask him that very question when Jed spoke again, interrupting my thoughts.

"We're coming up on our turn", Jed said. "This is where we deviate from the road to the prison. As soon as we turn the cops following us will know something is up".

"Is it that rogue cop who killed you?" I asked.

"Indeed it is. You can think of him as the Agent Smith character".

"So he's a computer program?" I asked. "No, he is an alien in human form", Jed said, correcting me.

"Hold on" he added, taking a sharp right turn. As soon as he did the cop car behind us turned on it's lights and sirens, giving chase as Jed accelerated.

The ambulance entered a tunnel, and what transpired next was very much like the car chase scene from the 1998 film Ronin starring Robert De Niro.

Jennifer unstrapped me from the gurney and helped me into the front seat. I fastened my seat belt as we wove in and out of traffic, causing multiple collisions which resulted in the deaths of numerous innocent motorists.

Jenny removed a gun from her waistband and shot out one of the rear windows. Then she commenced firing on the pursuing police vehicle. We emerged from the tunnel and were forced to swerve to the left. A steep incline with the sea below was on our right.

The police vehicle overtook us and pulled alongside. "Pull over immediately!" the cop in the passenger seat screamed.

When Jed did not comply the cop started firing, spraying the ambulance with bullets, one of which hit Jed. When the bullet struck Jed swerved, coming dangerous close to the edge.

The cop car pulled up closer, bashing into the side of the ambulance. Suddenly a tire blew and Jed swerved out of control, crashing into the railing separating us from the sharp drop off. Ricocheting off the guardrail Jed hit the cop car again, this time much more violently.

The cop car careened off the road (to the left) while the ambulance swerved out of control to the right, crashing right through the guardrail and over the edge. I was too weak to scream, otherwise I would have. The vehicle plunged several hundred feet, hitting the water below with great force.

The ambulance quickly began to sink as water gushed in the (shot out) driver's side widow. With in seconds the ambulance was completely submerged and sinking to the bottom.

I struggled with my seat belt but it seemed to be stuck. Before I knew it my lungs filled with water. Unable to free myself I stopped flailing and accepted my fate. I would not be becoming the savior of humanity as a real life Neo; instead I would drown and sink to the bottom of the ocean. This ambulance would serve as my coffin in a watery grave.



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The Man in the Hat Kills the Other Man in the Hat

Seeing a murder on television can help work off one's antagonisms. And if you haven't any antagonisms, the commercials will give you some -- Alfred Hitchcock (8/13/1899 to 4/29/1980).

Larry was a aspiring novelist who taught a creative writing class for adults at a community college. One of his students was a short balding man named Owen. Owen wrote a story in which a man in a hat killed another man in a hat for no other reason except being insane. Larry read the story and told his student that the murderer in the story would get caught because he had no alibi.

Larry suggested that Owen see a movie by Alfred Hitchcock. A movie that would show Owen the importance of writing characters that were believable, in that if one of them murdered the other one, it wouldn't be because the killer was insane. The killer must have a motive, and attempt to get away with the murder by establishing an alibi. Those, Larry informed his student, were the keys to writing a good mystery.

Owen took his instructor's advice and saw Strangers on a Train. After viewing the movie Owen had an idea. On a prior occasion he overheard Larry say that he hated his ex-wife and wished she were dead. Owen had a similar problem with his mother. Owen's mother constantly belittled him and called him names. Owen decided that his life would be a lot better if his mother was not around anymore.

"Criss Cross", Owen told Larry, and explained to him his idea that he would kill Larry's ex-wife if Larry would kill Owen's mother. They would exchange murders just like the two characters in the movie. And each of them would then have an alibi when the murder they had a motive to commit took place. That way neither one would get caught.

Larry said he thought Owen's idea was not a good one. He explained that he did not really want his wife dead, but had only said he did because he was very angry at the time. This did not seem to sink in with Owen, and he left his meeting with Larry determined to kill Larry's ex-wife.

The next time Owen saw Larry he told Larry that he had killed his ex-wife. Larry was shocked, both by the news that his ex-wife was dead and by the realization that he did not have an alibi. At first he thought Owen was lying, but on the TV he saw a news report that said his ex-wife was missing. His ex-wife was on the news because she was a famous novelist, unlike Larry. That is why Larry hated her so much. Not only was she a successful writer while he was a failure, but it was his writing that she was famous for -- his ex-wife had stolen his novel and published it as her own!

"The police will think I did it!" an angry Larry informed a clueless Owen. "I don't have an alibi for the night you murdered my ex-wife". It was then that my friend Larry contacted me and explained his problem.

"I'll be your alibi", I told Larry, suggesting he tell the police that he and I spent the night together at my place playing cards and watching movies. I decided Larry was telling the truth because, in my estimation he was not capable of murdering anyone.

"Thanks, Dervish", Larry said, looking relieved.

"Come over to my place right away so we can discuss in detail what we did on the night your ex-wife was killed", I said, recognizing the importance of getting our stories straight. Larry agreed with my plan and we came up with a fictional account of what we did that night. Later, when the police questioned Larry our stories apparently matched up to their satisfaction, as they let Larry go.

"We're not out of the woods yet", Larry remarked when we met up later.

"Right" I said, agreeing.

"This Owen fellow is a weak link. That is why we have to kill him", Larry said, shocking me. "We murder him, make it look like a suicide, and then plant evidence in his home to make it look like he was obsessed with my ex-wife. He was a crazed stalker who read her book -- the one she stole from me -- and decided to kill her".

"How about we break into his house and look for evidence first?" I said, trying to talk my friend out of murder.

"OK", Larry said, thinking it over. "We can try that first".

And so we did. I spent hours surveilling Owen's home in order to learn his comings and goings, though I never saw the mother Larry told me Owen lived with. After surveilling Owen's house for two weeks I told Larry I had observed him leaving his home every Thursday night carrying a bowling ball bag.

"That is when we will go then", Larry concluded. "You keep a lookout while I break into his house and look for evidence".

But I disagreed, telling my friend that I thought he should be the lookout while I looked for evidence. I was worried what Larry would do if Owen came home unexpectedly, given the fact that he had previously suggested we murder Owen. And so it was I who entered Owen's house that evening at dusk. Given the fact that I was a private detective, I was able to easily pick the lock on the back door.

"I thought you worked at a Progressive think tank", Larry said, not believing I was a PI.

"Yes, I work at the think tank, but I am also a PI", I informed my friend. It was true that I hadn't done any private investigative work in a while, but my license was current.

Where would Owen hide evidence of the murder? I decided to look in the basement. After a short search I found what I deduced was the right door, but when I tried it I found it was locked. No problem. I took out my tools again and opened the lock in short order. Creeping down the steps I was surprised by the sound of someone mumbling.

I was about to run (thinking there was someone there) when I saw a person tied to a chair. I flipped on the light and was surprised to see a woman who looked exactly like a young Kathryn Janeway, the captain of the Starship Voyager. But, no, it was Larry's ex-wife Maggie. I remembered thinking she looked just like Janeway the last time I saw her, sometime before the divorce.

Quickly I removed her gag.

"Dervish?" she said, recognizing me. As I loosened her bonds she explained to me that she had been kidnapped and held here by a crazed stalker she knew as Owen.

Just then I received a call on my walkie. "Owen's car pulled into the driveway!" an alarmed Larry hissed.

A few seconds later the door at the top of the steps flew open and a short man in a fedora appeared, brandishing a gun.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" an angry Owen demanded to know.

Owen held the gun on me as he descended the stairs.

Suddenly Larry appeared behind Owen and bashed him in the head with a 2X4. Owen lost his footing and tumbled head over heels down the steps. A loud snap could be heard as he landed face first on the concrete. Owen lay there not moving, obviously dead.

"I think I killed him!" Larry exclaimed. Then he saw his ex-wife. "Maggie, you're alive!" Larry cried, overjoyed. He ran down the steps, jumped over Owen's body, and embraced his stunned ex-wife.

"I'm so happy to see you", Larry sobbed. "The police thought I killed you", Larry added, still hugging Maggie tight.

Then a shot rang out. I looked and saw Owen lying on the floor, a smoking gun in his extended hand. He had used his last bit of life to shoot Larry. Owen died immediately after firing the bullet that killed Larry; the shot to his head blew his baseball cap (as well as a large portion of his head) clean off.

"The man in the hat killed the other man in the hat", the shocked Maggie whispered.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's a story Owen kept reading to me over and over", Maggie explained. "He told me that Larry didn't like it, but that he didn't trust Larry's opinion and wanted mine. Given the fact that I'm a published author while Larry was a loser who taught creative writing at a community college. That's why he said he kidnapped me -- to get the opinion of a real writer. And for revenge against the man who belittled his abilities".

"Makes sense", I concluded. Owen had killed Larry for no reason other than the fact that he was insane... and Larry had insulted his writing ability. I called the cops on my cell and they showed up a short while later. Maggie and I were held for questioning, but released a few hours later.

Also, it turns out Owen killed his mother some time ago. The cops found her body buried in the basement, so in the end things turned out far differently than anyone might have expected. That is, given the similarity between how things began and a certain movie from 1987 in which it was suggested the mother character be killed by throwing her from a train.

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Suspension of Disbelief Cubed

Suspension of disbelief is a term coined in 1817 by the poet and aesthetic philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who suggested that if a writer could infuse a "human interest and a semblance of truth" into a fantastic tale, the reader would suspend judgment concerning the implausibility of the narrative. The phrase came to be used more loosely in the later 20th century, often used to imply that the burden was on the reader, rather than the writer, to achieve it -- An excerpt from the Wikipedia entry.

I awoke with a splitting headache. Slowly opening my eyes I took in my surroundings. I appeared to be lying in a hospital bed. Also, to my amazement my friend Jed was sitting in a chair nearby.

"Glad to see you're awake, Dervish", Jed said looking relieved.

"What the hell happened?" I asked. "I thought you were dead".

"Clearly I am not dead", my friend replied. "Let me explain. You were shot by a rogue police officer. But the bullet really only grazed your head and the cop didn't realize it. Probably due to the massive loss of blood".

"But what about you?" I protested, feeling woozy. "I thought you had a heart attack after being tased. I checked your pulse and you didn't have one".

"Yes, that happened", Jed agreed. "But, as for explaining why I didn't have a pulse and appeared to be dead, that is something you are going to have a hard time believing".

"Try me", I shot back.

"Well, you've seen the film Inception starring Leonardo DiCaprio, haven't you?"

"Yes", I replied, not sure where this was going.

"Well", what about The Matrix, have you seen that one? I'm referring to the picture with Keanu Reeves in the lead" Jed explained.

"I don't understand why you're quizzing me on what movies I've seen", I said.

"Just go with me", Jed insisted. "Have you seen it?".

"Yes", I replied, utterly confused at this point.

"OK. What about Independence Day, and Terminator 2? Starring Will Smith and Arnold Schwarzenegger respectively, of course".

"What the hell are you talking about?", I demanded. "What do these movies have to do with you being killed and me almost being killed? I don't understand".

"Just answer the question", Jed said, looking very serious.

I lay there for a little while, staring at Jed. He stared back at me. "Yes, I have seen all those movies", I finally said.

"Think of this as Inception meets The Matrix meets Independence Day meets Terminator 2", he said.

"Think of WHAT as that?", I inquired. Had my friend gone crazy?

"No, I have not gone crazy", Jed replied as if reading my mind. "The situation you are in is like that. It is like Inception in that your dream of the violent sporting event was a dream within a dream. It is like The Matrix in that what you are experiencing right now is not real, but only a virtual reality simulation. It is like Independence Day in that it is aliens (and not intelligent machines) who are using what remains of humanity as batteries to power their machines which are stripping Earth of its natural resources".

"How is it like Terminator 2?" I asked, not believing a single thing Jed had just told me.

"It is like Terminator 2 in that I am a cybernetic robot".

"From the future?" I asked.

"In a way", Jed replied. "The year is not really 2013 as you believe, but actually around a 1000 years later. Anyway, the reason I have no pulse is because I am not human. The tasing merely disrupted my electrical circuits. I only appeared to be dead while my CPU was rebooting".

"Here, feel for a pulse", Jed said, extending his arm.

I felt for a pulse but there was none. "Still not buying this cockamamie story", I said, letting go of Jed's wrist.

Jed withdrew a switchblade from his jacket pocket. "I could use this knife to slice the flesh from my arm and reveal my robotic endoskeleton", Jed said. "Although I would rather not damage myself in that manner".

Still I did not quite believe the line of BS Jed was feeding me, but clearly something strange was going on. "So why did you scream at me and then cry hysterically when the cop said he was going to give you a ticket?" I asked, sure I had finally stumped him.

"It's like Star Trek Generations. You know, the film where they replaced Kirk and crew with Picard and the cast of the Next Generation series. You've seen it, right?", Jed asked.

"Actually, I just caught it on TV recently", I admitted.

"Well, then you should recall one of the subplots had to do with the android character Data and his emotion chip. I too have an emotion chip. The reason for my chaotic emotions is because this chip was infected with a virus. But don't worry, the virus has been dealt with".

"Sure", I agreed, certain my friend had flipped his lid. Perhaps we had both flipped our lids and were in the psych ward. I wasn't able to ponder just what was going on for long though, as voices in the hall outside the room distracted me.

"This way officer. The suspect is in this room", a female voice in the hall outside said.

"Oops. it's too late", Jed said. And then he disintegrated in a blinding flash, leaving not even ashes behind.

"What the frick!" I exclaimed in astonishment. But I did not have time to ponder this new development either, as just then a familiar officer of the law entered the room.

"That's the violent crack dealer who attacked me", the familiar cop said to a second uniformed officer who entered the room alongside him.

"Wait a minute, that isn't true at all", I complained, directing my disagreement toward the second officer. But I could protest my innocence no further, as the room suddenly started spinning. He needs another transfusion, a nurse that had entered the room behind the two cops said. She approached the bed and inserted an IV in my arm. In a few seconds I was feeling very drowsy.

"This will put him under so that he may be transported to the prison hospital", was the last thing I heard the nurse say before I lost consciousness.

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Don't Tase Me To Death Officer

"Don't tase me, bro" is an utterance emitted by University of Florida student Andrew Meyer on the evening of September 17, 2007 in efforts to ward off the vicious bite of a police taser after he was detained for getting uppity at a forum with U.S. Senator John Kerry -- An entry from the Urban Dictionary, which is "a Web-based dictionary of slang words and phrases".

My friend Jed wouldn't stop hollering at me. It was a waste of money to pay for me to attend a sporting event that I slept through. How dare I? he demanded to know. I apologized but reminded him that I did not like sport and had warned him beforehand that I thought it was boring. But my friend continued to complain the entire ride home.

"What are you, gay?" Jed asked.

"No, but that is a homophobic comment if ever I heard one", I retorted.

"I've had it with you", Jed suddenly yelled as he slammed on the breaks. "Get the hell out", he ordered with a stern face.

"No way", I replied. "We're in the middle of nowhere. I'm not going anywhere. You're taking me home".

Then my friend began screaming loudly. Clearly he had lost it. I sat there while Jed screamed until he was red in the face. Exhausted, he finally relented.

"I'm not a homophobe", he finally said after several minutes of silence. Just then a siren blared and a pair of flashing red lights appeared in the rear view mirror. "Great, the cops" Jed muttered. A few moments later there was a tap on the driver's side window. Jed rolled it down and asked, "what seems to be the trouble, officer"?

"You're not allowed to pull over here unless there is an emergency", the cop informed my friend.

"What?" Jed asked, clearly confused.

"There are signs all along this section of the highway", the officer explained. "If there is no emergency I ask that you please be on your way", the officer instructed.

Jed fumbled for his keys. "Certainly officer. I apologize for the mistake. I did not see the signs", Jed sputtered, clearly worried he might get a ticket.

"Hold up", the officer instructed. "I think I'm going to give you a ticket after all", he added, pulling out his ticket clipboard.

"It was an honest mistake", Jed protested. "Please don't give me a ticket". Suddenly Jed began to cry. He tried to stifle his sobs but was unsuccessful. Soon he was bawling like a little baby.

"What's with this bullsh*t?" the officer growled. "It would be one thing if you were a beautiful chick, but a dude crying is going to get no sympathy from me. Forget the ticket, I'm going to arrest you and have your car impounded", the officer shouted (in order to be heard over the increasing loud wailing emanating from my friend).

"Stop crying and get out of the vehicle before I'm forced to tase you", the officer yelled.

"No", Jed said, calming down a little. "It was an honest mistake and you have no cause to arrest me", he defiantly proclaimed.

"That's it", the officer decided, pulling out his taser and taking aim. Then he depressed the trigger and a projectile with a thin wire attached shot out and pierced Jed's flesh. Jed screamed in agony as a jolt of electricity coursed through his body. The cop removed his finger from the trigger and Jed's head slumped forward. Seemingly he was unconscious.

"Stop faking unconsciousness and exit the vehicle", the cop screamed.

Jed did not respond. I grabbed hold of his wrist and felt for a pulse, but there was none. "He needs CPR", I shouted.

The officer opened the door and dragged Jed's limp body from the vehicle, depositing him roughly on the pavement. "M-Fer, I think you're right" the officer remarked, his face ashen.

Quickly the lawman began CPR, depressing Jed's chest and alternately blowing air into his mouth. But it did not work. Jed was dead from an apparent heart attack.

"Jesus H. Christ, what a pu*sy" the angry cop bellowed, jumping to his feet and kicking Jed violently in the gut. It was probably a half-dozen more kicks to the belly before officer friendly finally stopped.

"Violent crack dealers", he suddenly said.

"What?" I asked.

"You and your friend", the officer explained, "are violent crack dealers who attacked me when I pulled you over. I had no choice but to defend myself". Then he pulled his gun and took aim directly at my chest. "Bang, you're dead", he shouted, firing.

I felt myself falling, then my head struck the concrete and everything went black.



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I Attend A Sporting Event

I hate all sports as rabidly as a person who likes sports hates common sense -- Henry Louis Mencken (9/12/1880 to 1/29/1956) an American journalist, essayist, magazine editor, satirist, critic of American life and culture, and scholar of American English.

"I am attending a sporting event tomorrow and would like you to accompany me", my friend proclaimed.

"No way", I replied. "I am not a fan of sport, and you know that".

But my friend would not take no for an answer. "You'll love it" he promised. "Besides, real men are sports fans".

So, against my better judgment I agreed, despite the fact that the fans of this specific sport had a reputation of getting particularly rowdy.

The man at the counter gave me a disapproving look when I handed him my ticket. "Where's your jersey?" he demanded to know.

"I'm not rooting for either team", I explained.

"Sorry, but the wearing of a jersey is required", the man insisted.

My friend, who was standing behind me, said "See, I told you". People in line began to grumble. Several loudly suggested that I be ejected from the stadium. "Give him a jersey the same as mine", my friend interjected. "I'll pay for it".

My friend paid and handed me my jersey. "OK", he said, "let's get inside. The game is about to begin".

We found our seats just as the action commenced. Out of sight a small bird spread it's wings and took flight. It flew high into the sky over the arena, it's squawks causing many to take notice. A man in the stands happened to look up at an inopportune moment and the bird dropped an unpleasant gift directly onto his face. The man cursed in anger, the shock of what had just happened causing him to spill his beer in his lap. A nearby child laughed.

"I do not understand this game", I said turning to my companion; the friend who had insisted I attend. "Sport is not my idea of entertainment. Why should I care who wins or who loses?" I complained.

Which was why I refused to wear the required jersey that identified the team I was rooting for. Several uneventful hours went by and I nearly fell asleep.

"Wake up", my friend said, nudging me. "Now it is time for the finale. Trust me, it is about to get a lot more interesting".

One of the players dribbled the ball down the court and dunked it. The crowd stood and cheered wildly. By coincidence the player's name was Bradley Duncan. Then the ball hit the ground and bounced back into the player's hands. He proceeded to tuck the ball under his arm and run down the court. Players from the opposing team swung at the charging man with their wiffle bats, attempting to cause him to fumble.

Duncan withstood the blows and made it to the opposite end of the court. He jumped up in the air and spiked it. The crowd stood and cheered once again. Some points were added to his team's total on the scoreboard. The referee retrieved the spiked pigskin and jogged to the center of the court. Two players faced off and the referee dropped the ball.

One of the players kicked the ball and it flew into the air. Then all the players on the court drew their pistols and began firing at the soaring sphere. The ball exploded in a blinding flash that caused everyone to drop to the floor. Several players were wounded by flying shrapnel, including Duncan, who screamed in agony when a white hot nail pierced his cornea.

Points were again added to the scoreboard, this time to the opposing team's total. Duncan was removed from the court on a stretcher. Suddenly the crowd began chanting as the countdown clock neared zero. Another play was attempted but there simply was not enough time remaining. The game ended when an air horn sounded loudly, deafening more than a few players and spectators alike.

Everyone in the arena at once bolted for the doors, creating a mad stampede in which several people were crushed to death. Luckily my friend and I made it safely out of the arena with minor injuries. Out in the streets those who had been rooting for the team that lost began to smash car and shop windows, venting their anger. Numerous vehicles were set ablaze by the rioters. One of the burning cars suddenly and violently exploded.

Several people standing nearby were engulfed in flames. They ran about wildly, screaming as their flesh burned. Within a few minutes they dropped dead, although their bodies continued to smolder. Some of the brawlers produced baseball bats they had presumably brought with them in anticipation of a violent rumble following the conclusion of the game. Those with bats swung them viciously, bashing in the heads of multiple victims.

Others withdrew knives from their pockets, while still others used brass knuckles to attack their foes. Those without weapons used their fists. The casualties mounted on each side as my friend and I ducked into an alleyway.

"I'm no chicken", my friend protested, clearly desiring to enter the fray.

Suddenly an air horn sounded again. I looked up and saw the source of the unpleasant noise, a large blimp hovering overhead. An LCD display on the side of the blimp displayed the totals for each of the sporting teams that had faced off inside the arena.

"As per the rules of the game, points are added to each total reflecting how many on each side were just killed", a nearby stranger explained. "The numbers were obtained via a computer chip sewn into each jersey that monitors the wearer's health".

The new figures were tabulated and displayed on the LCD screen, resulting in victory being snatched away from one team and handed to the other. The winners became the losers. The victory cries of the fans of the now winning team were almost ear-splitting. The winners then proceeded to point and laugh at the fans of the opposing team. Those who were now the defeated were good sports about it though. They hung their heads in shame and quickly vacated the area.

"I guess you could call that interesting", I remarked, turning to my friend. But he wasn't there. I looked around and finally saw him lying on the ground, dead. Someone had bashed his head in with a brick. Falling to my knees I began to sob. Who could ever have imagined that my first time attending a sporting event would result in such tragedy?

Just then someone poked me sharply in the ribs.

"You can wake up now, the game is over", a familiar voice instructed. I opened my eyes to find my friend was still alive. Of course I had only been dreaming. Dreaming of something much more exciting than the exceedingly boring sporting competition I just slept through.

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