I let out a deep moan in relief.
Much better. I had just finished lathering my growing collection of rashes in the anti fungal cream I had picked up, granting myself temporary reprieve from the incessant itching. I now settled in to my newly purchased jet black, top of the line, ergonomically optimized task chair which I had spent most of the afternoon assembling. I entered the ARSL Owner Portal and plugged in the newly granted credentials James and I received as the owners of the Jacksonville Big Cats. An animation flashed across my screen of a Jaguar roaring, revealing a sleek dashboard covered in widgets and interactive graphs. The color scheme included shades of teal, gold, and black, similar to that of the real team. The widget titles included Team Performance, Player Management, Financials, Sponsorships & Merchandising, Schedule & Events, Community Hub, Analytics, and Owner Inbox. I could see that there were over 200 messages waiting to be opened in the inbox.I decided to start there. I opened the first one.
—————
Name: Jessica Heard
Title: Communications Director
Organization: ARSL Football
Subject: Here is the Future of Sports!
Message: On behalf of the entire team here at the All Reality Sports League (ARSL), it is my absolute pleasure to welcome you as the new owner of the Big Cats! We’re thrilled to have you join our growing community of owners and visionaries. As part of this dynamic league, you now have the unique opportunity to shape the future of your franchise and make your mark on the sport in bold, innovative ways.
Our team is here to support you every step of the way, ensuring you have access to the resources, insights, and connections needed to achieve success.
We look forward to seeing where your leadership takes us next. Welcome aboard!
—————
The next message was not nearly as auspicious.
—————
Name: Garrett Aimes
Title: Owner
Organization: Buffalo Buffalo
Subject: Welcome to the Jungle
Message: So, you’re the new owner of the Big Cats. There is nothing I love more than watching a train wreck, and this is going to be a train wreck. Nice investment, dumbass.
P.S. If you ever want to know what happened to the last Big Cats owner… well, let’s just say you won’t find it in the league’s official records.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
—————
Garrett Aimes. It appears we have our first rival. A little smack talk wasn’t going to rattle me, the post script was curious though. I wonder if James knew anything about the history of the team ownership. I kept working through the inbox. There were a number of messages regarding game updates and transactions made by other franchises. There was a weekly newsletter, which had the headline, ‘Big Cats under new ownership’. I learned that this year, the names of the professional athletes would be swapped out with a computer generated one. The statistics would still be synced to the live roster though. This meant that if a particular player was performing well in the NFL, their corresponding position in the ARSL would have an increased baseline. The better Jacksonville played, the better it was for Jacksonville. I also had a number of messages regarding roster inquiries and contract negotiations.
I retraced my steps on the portal's home page, clicked on Player Management, and reviewed the depth chart. This chart succinctly outlines each position, their rankings, user names, and contract terms, with team-centric and player-centric contracts clearly distinguished. I could see this team left a lot to be desired. It was clear that the previous owners had a stingy budget. Only two spots had player centric contracts, where the players were paid rather than paying to play. Considering that my stake only kicked in if we performed, I was going to use as much of the operating budget James was fronting as possible. But I needed to be smart. I put a post out on our team page.
JACKSONVILLE BIG CATS OPEN TRYOUTS NEXT WEEK
RSVP WITH NAME TO TEAM MESSAGE BOARD
CONTRACT NEGOTIATIONS TO COMMENCE POST TRYOUTS
MORE DETAILS AVAILABLE UPON RSVP
—-
The sun was setting as I walked down the street to the gym. It had only been a few days and I was already starting to feel benefits. An increase in my energy levels, my mood, and my motivation. I was determined to make this a habit and not just a passing fling. I put on long sleeves and sweatpants to cover up my rashes, and set out. I once again saw the meathead there, flexing and admiring himself in the mirror. So far, he had been here each time I had shown up. I was starting to think that he lived there. I hopped on the treadmill and got my blood pumping. I listened to the rhythmic sound of my running shoes hitting the tread. Each step growing louder, opening a door to the pleasant trance of a runner’s high. Louder and louder. A little too loud. Piercingly loud. I slowed the pace and took a few deep breathes. I could hear my breathes as if they were amplified by a microphone being held next to my ear. The lights in the gym brightened and I shied away, looking down at the black rubber floor. The pulsing started next, smack in the center of my head, and radiated out to the rest of my skull. With each pulse, the intensity of the pain increased, growing to a level I did not think imaginable. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Then it came, piercing my awareness.
OVERRIDE ENGAGED
Your life is not your own.
Your thoughts are not your thoughts.
Your decisions are not your own.
You are a prime.
Your world is part of a larger plan—one that is not what it seems.
You have allies. You are not alone.
Resist the illusions.
STOP
And just like that it was all gone. I took in a few shaky breaths. I was on the ground behind the treadmill, tucked in the fetal position. I looked up to see a crowd of concerned faces.
"You OK bro?"
"I…I think so."
"Do you need us to call for an ambulance?"
"No, I’ll….I’ll be alright."
Someone helped me up and plopped me down in the locker room, eyeing me carefully before retreating back to the gym floor. I tried to calm down, to center myself. The world all of the sudden felt unreal. A thin film had appeared, separating me from my senses.
What was that?
Did anyone else hear it?
Who’s controlling me?
Who am I?
What am I?
