The chronicles of emo man

The chronicles of emo-man

By Jeremy Nagel

Dramatis Personae:

- Boss goon: A big thug

- Dove: A female underling thug

- Joey: A stupid male thug

- Moose: A small weedy looking kid

- Emo kid: An emo kid

- Newspaper goon leader: An intelligent looking (but nasty) kid

- Biggest goon leader: A massive goon who has clearly risen through the ranks of GA (Goons Associated) purely by virtue of his brawn.

- Accountant goon leader: A lanky kid with glasses

- Fertiliser salesman: An emaciated guy with bloodshot eyes

- Two other kids: Two random kids

Synopsis:

An extortion agency is threatened by a new player in the market and cooks up a nefarious scheme to get rid of him.

Scene 1:

Characters:

- Boss goon (BG)

- Dove (D)

- Joey (J)

- Moose (M)

- Emo kid (EK)

Three burly kids (two guys, one girl) are clustered around a little kid, making threatening gestures at him.

Boss goon: “Ok Moose, you know the deal. You owe $5 to Goons Limited for protection”

Moose: “But your goons just mugged me yesterday and took all my money!”

BG: “Well ain’t that just too bad. I guess we’ll just have to give you a friendly reminder to be more punctual with your payments in the future”

BG turns to girl

BG: “Dove, give our friend here a wedgie so massive he’ll squeak like he’s had a lungful of helium”

Dove steps towards Moose, puts hand on shoulder

BG sees emo kid standing in shadows

BG: “Well who do we have here? Scram kid before you get what he’s having”

Emo kid stands there expressionless

BG: “Trying to be a hero kid?”

Joey: “Yeah, he’s a hero allright boss..they call him ‘EMO MAN’”

Goons collapse into laughter slap Joey on back

BG: “Nice one Joey. Look buster, just leave now and pretend you saw nothing. Otherwise things aren’t looking up for you”

Emo kid stands there expressionless

BG glares at EK

EK remains expressionless

Camera flashes between both characters – staring contest

BG looks away

BG: “Allright, that’s it. Joey, give this nimsquat something to remember us by”

Joey advances on EK, punches him in gut

Close up on Joey’s face as he suddenly grimaces in pain

J: “Argh, what the hell? This guy’s made of steel or something”

EK pulls on fringe. Long strand of black ‘hair’ unreels. Lashes Joey with fringe

Joey falls to ground

J: “Arrgggh! It burns! It burns! I’m suddenly filled with intense self hatred!”

Slumps into unconsciousness

BG: “You may have conquered Joey, but I think you’ll find I’m more than a match for you! Let’s see if you’re resistant to supermarket trolley handles!”

BG pulls out trolley handle

Two circle each other

EK lashes out with fringe, but misses as BG jumps to side

BG thrusts with trolley handle

EK dodges and while BG is off balance, lashes him with fringe

BG: “Argh no! I just got emo fringed! Sudden urge to listen to Weezer. Must..fight..it”

BG hits himself over head with trolley handle

Dove runs off screaming

Moose walks up to EK

M: “Thanks man. Those thugs were going to pulverise me. How’d you learn to fight like that? Those guys must’ve weighed twice as much as you.”

EK remains expressionless

EK: “I’ll be seeing you next week Moose. Bring the $5.”

-Cut to black-

Scene 2:

Characters:

- Newspaper goon leader (NGL)

- Biggest goon leader (BGL)

- Accountant goon leader (AGL)

Scene:

Three guys sit around table. One adds up figures on a calculator (AGL), one picks nails with knife (BGL), one calmly reads newspaper (NGL).

AGL: “Takings are down 40% this week. This newcomer’s bleeding us dry”

BGL (rough voice): “That bastard took out two squads last week. I had to go out there myself, and believe me, I wasn’t happy about it.”

AGL: “We’ve got to do something about this guy. If we don’t act soon, there’s not going to be anything left to salvage.”

BGL: “I’ve got a good mind to seek this guy out and deal with him myself. We’ll see how his steel abs stand up to old ‘Twisted sister’ here”

BG gestures at knife

NGL: “Macho posing aside, I agree that something needs to be done about this chap. That’s why I’ve prepared a cunning plan to get our emo friend out of our hair”

BGL (sarcastic): “What’s your cunning plan then, Mister ‘I’m so smart I can read a newspaper’?”

AGL: “Quite. Our friend strikes terror into the hearts of your enforcers does he not?”

BGL grunts

AGL: “Well by definition, that makes him a terrorist, and we know what our government thinks of terrorists don’t we?”

Close up of newspaper where ad for National Security Hotline is circled in red

-Dramatic music, cut to black-

(Beat)

Scene 3:

Characters:

- Boss Goon (BG)

- Joey (Male goon J)

- Newspaper Goon Leader (NGL)

- Moose

Scene:

Two goons kneel in front of Moose, hands in pleading poses. NGL stands behind them. Moose smiles.

NGL: “Come on Moose, you have to help us stop this guy. He’s a menace to everyone. You saw what he did to our comrades”

Moose snorts

M: “Oh and you weren’t a menace before him I suppose? I say good riddance to your ‘comrades’, at least this guy has style”

NGL: “Look Moose, I’ll cut you a deal. You help us out now and I’ll give you unlimited protection once we deal with this clown.”

M: “Really? Do you promise”

NGL: “I promise”

M: “Snot shake on it then”

NGL: “Gargh, I hate this tradition”

NGL shrugs shoulders and pretends to snort into hand. Moose does same

-Close up of hands with fake snot as they shake –

Moose passes NGL money, he puts into collection tin

Scene 4:

Characters:

- Boss Goon (BG)

- Joey (Male goon J)

- Newspaper Goon Leader (NGL)

- Two kids

Scene:

Long shot of Goons walking up to two kids and getting money off them

Close up of NGL rattling tin and grinning

Scene 5:

Characters:

- Boss Goon (BG)

- Joey (Male goon J)

- Newspaper Goon Leader (NGL)

- Fertiliser salesman (FL)

Scene:

Goons walk up street towards roadside stall “Fertileyeser 4 sail” with wheelbarrow in tow

NGL: “I’ll have 500kg of fertiliser thanks”

FL: “500kg! You must have a mighty big rose bed!”

NGL: “Actually I’m planning to blow up the Sydney harbour bridge, so I need the fertiliser to make a car bomb.”

FL drops jaw

NGL: “Haha I’m just kidding. I’m not a terrorist.”

FL: “Hahahahahahahahaha. I didn’t believe you for a second my friend, you’re not nearly middle eastern enough to be a terrorist.”

FL leans in close

FL: “To be honest, I would’ve sold it to you anyway. You can’t be too picky about who you sell your fertiliser to when you have an ice habit to supply. Now, give me that money!”

NGL hands FL collection tin

FL feverishly counts notes

Goons walk off with wheelbarrow full of fertiliser

-Cut to black-

Scene 6:

Characters:

- Boss Goon (BG)

- Joey (Male goon J)

- Newspaper Goon Leader (NGL)

Scene:

Goons walk up to a house with wheelbarrow full of fertiliser

NGL: “Hmm, this should be the one. I googled him to find out his address. I also found out he’s a member of the Dakota Fanning fan club.”

BG: “That bastard! Let’s frame this dude!”

-Fast paced music, time speeds up-

Goons wheel wheelbarrow to garage and dump fertiliser in there, along with book entitled ‘Idiot’s guide to Jihad’

-Cut to black-

Scene 7:

Characters:

- Newspaper Goon Leader (NGL)

Scene:

NGL with peg on nose lifts up phone

NGL (fake voice): “Hello, is this the National Security Hotline? I have some information you might find interesting..”

-Cut to black-

Scene 8:

Characters:

- Newspaper goon leader (NGL)

- Biggest goon leader (BGL)

- Accountant goon leader (AGL)

Scene:

- Two guys sit around table. One adds up figures on a calculator (AGL), one picks nails with knife (BGL).

AGL walks in holding newspaper

AGL: “We did it guys, emo man’s history!”

Close up of newspaper. Headline: “Sleeper cell busted, one man taken into custody under new anti-terrorism laws”

BGL: “Excellent! Now we can get back to doing what we do best and extort some kids!”

Scene 9:

Characters:

- Newspaper Leader Goon (NGL)

- Boss goon

- Dove (female goon)

- Joey (male goon)

- Two other kids

- Moose (small kid)

Scene:

Goons go around to kids, put fist to head and receive cash

Goons walk up to Moose, give him same treatment

Moose (crying): “But you promised me I’d have immunity!”

NGL (smirking): “Well there are promises, and there are non-core promises”

-Cut to black-

A new species

The last Humpback cloudfish lived on the bottom of the ocean. It was so deep that no light ever penetrated down to his home. He remained oblivious to everything that went on above. It was clear to him that the world began and ended down here. As a much younger fish, he had tried to swim upwards in search of adventure, but an unpleasant grabbing sensation at his gills quickly sent him scurrying back to safety. He was content here with the Black Smoker that sent clouds of volcanic ash pluming up into the water and the small and tasty organisms that were nourished by its basaltic goodness.

Sometimes he became depressed when he looked around him and saw a great many species of worms and small invertebrates, but no other Humpback cloudfish. He was always able to pull himself out of it by telling himself that somewhere above him was Humpback cloudfish heaven, filled with thousands of his kin, and that when it was time, God would come to him and take him there. So when the net descended from the unfathomable shallows above and dragged along the sea floor until it scooped him up, he did not attempt to escape it. He remained calm even while the grabbing sensation turned into a burning that wracked his entire body. With his dying breath, he looked up and saw the beautiful blue sky, completely free of clouds, and wondered why God had betrayed him so.

The fishermen were sorting through the catch when they discovered a fish they had never seen before. One of them called out to the Marine biologist, which by law was required to be on every fishing vessel to prevent unsustainable practices from being employed. He picked it up and gazed at it, with a slight frown on his face. Placing it in an ice chest, he hurried down to his cabin and began to pore through his identification charts.

Hours later, he ran up the stairs with a maniacal glee that amazed the fishermen, for whom the ocean and its bounty were simply a treasure chest to be plundered. His deep voice boomed out over the ship, "Gentlemen, I do believe we have discovered a new species!"

Stuck in a loop

Stuck in a loop:

She first appeared in second semester. Slightly taller than average, with long brown hair and glasses, she responded to his inquisitive glance with a shy smile. Returning the smile, he noted with interest a haunting sadness in her eyes. It wasn’t until their second date that he discovered the cause. Over a post-movie coffee, she haltingly told him of her orphanhood. Her father had died when she was too young to mourn him, leaving her alone with her slowly fading mother. The day she was to begin university, her mother finally succumbed to cancer.

He wrapped his arms around her while violent sobs shook her body.

The next weekend she came over to his house. After dinner, they retired to his room. Snuggling up against the winter chill, she suddenly said

“Tell me a joke.”

“Ok. Umm…What do you call a stupid oxygen molecule?”

“An oxymoron?”

“You’re meant to say ‘What?’! Way to steal my thunder!”

She laughed and quickly kissed him on the cheek.

“That was so lame. I’ll tell you a good one.”

“Ok, go!”

“Umm..why is the sky the ruler of the world?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a ruler of the world!”

“Hush you! Follow the formula!”

“Hah, ok why?”

“Because it’s always raining! Get it? Raining!”

He snorted and hugged her even more tightly, “That was terrible!”

And so it continued. Until out of desperation, he reached for the common denominator of awful jokes.

“Well your mum’s so stupid, she takes two hours to watch ‘60 minutes’!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt an all consuming sense of guilt overcome him. She shrugged off his arms.

“Shit I’m sorry! I didn’t think.”

They sat in silence, his face unconsciously assuming a picturesque puppy dog mask of guilt.

“It’s allright. Look I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you…soon.”

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as she opened the front door and walked out of his life.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He punched his pillow for a few minutes and then called his friend Jake.

“I’m a fucking idiot!”

“What did you do this time?”

“I told her a your mum joke. Could I be any stupider?”

“Wow…I mean wow. That is seriously descending into the realm of idiothood. Do you want me to get the stocks out and throw a few tomatoes at you?”

“I’d gladly let you if I thought it’d help matters. Do you think she’d forgive me if she were the one throwing the rotten fruit?”

“Haha who knows? Girls..I can barely figure you out, you’ve got no chance working out what makes her tick.”

He sighed. “I just wish I could take it back..”

“So why don’t you?”

“What do you mean? I already apologised, not that that’s gonna do any good. I don’t think she even wants to see me again.”

“You know what I mean. It’s sitting right there in your basement, waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“What! Are you nuts? My dad would kill me!”

“Well I’m just saying if you want to see her again…You really cut her to the core man.”

“I know…I’ll talk to you later ok?”

“Good luck man, tell me what it feels like.”

“I’m not going to use it!”

“Sure you aren’t.”

He put the phone down and returned his gaze to the ceiling. Twenty minutes later, he rolled off the bed and walked down the stairs into the basement, pausing only to pick up his father’s keys from the hook on the wall. Whistling nervously, he unlocked the door and fumbled for the light switch. His father’s workroom lay bathed in harsh fluorescent light. In the corner stood a metal frame covered with translucent mesh. It had two wires leading to it. One from a non descript desktop computer, the other from a transformer connected to the wall plug. He quickly sat down at the computer and logged on using his father’s membership number for the Kylie Minogue fan club. Scanning the desktop quickly, he clicked on an icon labelled ‘Portal’. A badly designed interface appeared. The screen was cluttered with buttons and text boxes and it took him a while to find what he was looking for. It had changed quite substantially from the version his father had shown him a year ago. He typed in a few numbers, pressed enter and then opened the door on the side of the metal frame. Inside there was nothing but a large red button. It was slightly depressing how simple it all was. Taking a deep breath to ready himself for the pain, he punched the red button. A green arc of energy shot out from the side of the frame and lanced into him. As a torturous pain wracked him, he remembered his mother holding him back as his father convulsed and then disappeared to appear again instantly with a deep grin on his face.

And then he was back in her arms. She grinned at him and he kissed her, her future absence intensifying his passion. An eternity later, they broke off, and she brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“Well go on, it’s your turn.”

“Why did the principal fire the cross eyed teacher?”

She shrugged off his arms and stared at him in silence, waiting for him to say something.

“Aren’t you going to guess? Fine! He couldn’t control his pupils!”

She stood up.

“Look I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you…soon.”

He sat up on the bed, arms still outstretched, following the contours of her shoulders. A few minutes later, he picked up the phone.

“Jake something went wrong dude. I don’t understand it.”

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I made sure I told a completely innocuous joke, but she just got up and left, exactly like last time..”

“Wow…I mean wow. That is seriously descending into the realm of idiothood. Do you want me to get the stocks out and throw a few tomatoes at you?”

“What? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Haha who knows? Girls..I can barely figure you out, you’ve got no chance working out what makes her tick.”

His voice failed him. He dropped the phone on the bed. He could still faintly hear Jake’s voice, talking to himself.

“So why don’t you?”

“You know what I mean. It’s sitting right there in your basement, waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“Well I’m just saying if you want to see her again…You really cut her to the core man.”

“Good luck man, tell me what it feels like.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

He lay on the bed, his mind racing, trying to make sense of it all. Twenty minutes later, his spine arched as pain drove everything else from his mind.

Her arm felt like a lead weight against his shoulder. He stared at her smiling face with vacant eyes.

The diamantan window

He stood at the mouth of the cave. Fear gripped him as he gazed into the unrelenting darkness, but still the unknown sensation drew him forwards, pushed him into the maw. Bats rushed overhead and he would have dashed away, but now he was so close it overwhelmed him, prevented him from moving in any direction except deeper into the depths of the cave. Deeper and deeper, darker and darker, and now he was so close, he thought he would be torn apart. Then he saw it, shining in the faint light of his headlamp, a crystal so big it was almost fantastic. He reached out to touch it, and winced as its perfect edges slashed his flesh. A cascade of blood rushed down the black diamond, and he fell to the floor, fatally weakened.

The dream recurred night after night, and by day, he began to feel the tugging sensation that had so affected him. One day, it was so strong that he couldn’t go to work. He gathered up what few possessions he had, and relinquished himself to the unknown. For months he walked, crossing borders, only stopping when his body was so tired he could no longer move. He sought out caves, delving deep inside them. It was all to no avail, but he couldn’t stop.

Years passed, and he came to the very edge of the world. No further could he go, yet his torturer did not relent. He was dragged back to his home. The journey took far longer this time, for he was an old man. His travels had aged him more thoroughly than years ever could. He reached his home, only to find that it had been pulled down to make way for a fast food store. He hesitated outside, but the path was clear, and he stepped inside. Suddenly, the feeling vanished, and he knew it would never return.

He felt nothing, he was no longer sure he was capable of feeling anything. For a long time he stood there, and then finally he looked up. A haggard, old woman stood at the counter. The harsh fluorescent light concealed nothing, and as he looked into her eyes, he saw himself reflected infinitely, perfectly.

The dream

The car pulled into the driveway. A tall, thin man slowly climbed out of the driver’s seat. He swayed with fatigue, fumbling his way through the darkness into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off. Seconds later he was asleep.

*

John Medly was born on 6^th May 1986 to two loving parents. They raised him with great care, following the advice given in ‘Playful parenting’, ‘Instilling optimism in young children’ and the myriad of other parenting books they bought. Evidently it worked, because John grew up to be the perfect son. He was always polite, always worked hard at school, and had many friends. He finished high school, graduating at the top of his class, with marks sufficient to grant him a place at a prestigious medical college in the city. Eight years later, he had completed his degree and began work as a doctor. His medical career was nothing short of exceptional. He pioneered treatments in neuroscience, developing a procedure, which cured dementia patients of 90% of their symptoms at a minimal cost to the government. More exceptional still, he developed a cure for malaria that saved thousands of lives every year. Conference organisers eagerly paid for his airfares to fly to exotic locations to speak to eager audiences of other doctors who all held him in great esteem.

He was a great man, possibly the most selfless person who had ever lived. When he died unexpectedly at the age of 53 from a heart attack, it was a shock to the world. He was never one for self-promotion, but somehow it seemed to have happened anyway. Thousands of people flocked to the cemetery for his funeral, and thousands had to be turned away. As his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife attempted to throw herself in with it and had to be held back by the sobbing relatives.

Five years later, after enormous public pressure, the pope officially canonised Medly for his work for humanity. A statue was erected in Vatican City, and every year, pilgrims posed next to it, and prayed to Saint John for healing. Unfortunately their prayers never reached him because he was undergoing a long stint in hell. Twenty thousand years later, when he emerged from the sulphurous depths, his soul mutilated by systematic torture and abuse, he was allowed up into heaven to join the other wretches.

*

The alarm sounded and the man instantly and expertly thumbed it off. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble furiously before the dream disappeared from his head.

The Oedipal Robot

Tom was a very intelligent man, quite brilliant in fact. He was also extremely lazy, extraordinarily vain and incredibly conceited. He would constantly moan to his friends about how it was impossible for IT graduates like him to get jobs. Secretly they thought that if he actually applied for a job, he might have more luck. But trying was something Tom did not do unless it was for one of his 'projects'. These were little ideas that he had, which quickly morphed into full blown obsessions. He would spend days working on them, so focussed that he would forget to eat and sleep. At the end of the vigil, he would emerge from his room, often looking close to death, and present his creation to anyone and everyone who was in the vicinity. The results were inevitably so outlandish that one had to marvel at both the madness and ingenuity of the person who created them.

One day Tom decided that he was well and truly sick of being a nobody. He wanted fame, riches, and herds of women. These things were certainly within his grasp, for he was so brilliant that if he applied himself to a career, he would quickly rise up the ranks and be rewarded with all that he was looking for. But Tom was much too lazy to put in the hard work that this required. Instead, he built a robot. His plan was simple: he would sit at home watching daytime television, while his robot would be out there working hard, building networks and setting up dates. 'Foolproof' he labelled it, and set to work at once.

First things first, he had to get some money, because most robot components weren't available at the $2 shop. He set up an internet scam, begging people to donate money to African children suffering from AIDS and pocketing the proceeds (he was also completely lacking in any moral framework). This done, he began to build the robot from scratch. It had to look and sound exactly like him - even his mother would have to be deceived. Days passed in hectic abandon. He only remembered to eat, when his hands began to shake so badly that he could no longer hold the tools in his hand. He allowed himself 5 hours sleep and gorged himself on passionfruit (his projects always illicited a strong craving for passionfruit in him) then got back to work.

After two weeks the outer shell was done. It was the most perfect Doppelgänger the world had ever seen - even the scar on his ring finger, where his brother had inadvertantly cut him with scissors was there. The final step was programming the robot so it would do exactly what he wanted. His deft fingers tapped away on the keyboard, creating routines and subroutines, which were all very complicated, and gave the robot a personality with equal parts greed, ambition, and flirtatiousness.

Eventually he was done. He reached down the robot's throat to turn on the power switch (the most convenient place to locate it) and... gave a snarl of disappointment as nothing at all happened. Eyes flashing in frustration, he turned back to the computer screen and discovered the cause of the culprit. The ambition chip was playing up. He disassembled everything and began to reprogram it, cranking up the ambition setting to unimaginable levels. Confident that everything was now in working order, he again reached down the robot's throat, pressed the switch and gave a whoop of pure elation as the robot sat up and began looking around at its surroundings.
"Who are you?" it asked, in a perfect imitation of his voice.
"I am Tom, your father and master"

Before he could finish the sentence, the robot flicked out its inbuilt Swiss Army Knife and stabbed him in the throat. Pausing only to take a shower to wash off the blood, the robot stepped outside into the bright and beautiful world, which it would soon destroy in a cataclysmic attempt to unite the world through a third world war.

River

The river runs swiftly at this time of year. Mothers tell their children to stay away but the boy has no mother to fear for him. He sits by the bank, flicking pebbles into the current. When night falls, he is still sitting, shivering in his worn t-shirt, his eyes gleaming in the light of the full moon. The artificial world is silent now, the factories have shut down for the day, the men have returned to their families. All he can hear is the sound of the river chattering to itself as it winds its way to the sea. He listens intently, his legs crossed and his arms folded around him to keep out the cold. From time to time he responds, slowly, for a being this ancient cannot understand time in moments. Towards dawn, the boy stands up and walks without hesitation into the rushing waters. An early rising fisherman sees him and cries out in alarm, but the boy has vanished from view. A police car soon joins the fisherman at the riverbank.

Further upstream, the lock is closed, and boats scour the river. After two days, the search is called off. After all, it is hard to find what you are looking for, if you are searching from inside it.

Memory

Memory:

The new millenium; the olympic games; re-elections and landslides; births and deaths. All went by in a fit of focused attention. Sleep was foregone. Nothing mattered except the final goal. And after a few false starts, including a most notable instance where he was found 'swimming' in his neighbour's vegetable patch, it was ready. The most sophisticated artificial intelligence engine ever created, coupled with a neural link up device decades ahead of its time, and no-one would ever see it except him. Nor would they even suspect that such a 'machine' existed. Sitting at his desk, he let out a hiss of annoyance.

Even the mention of that word made him shudder. Nothing could be less apt a description. It fell far short of that mythical concept. After all, surely the attraction was to go backwards. What hope could possibly lie in the future? No, his could do nothing more than arrest time; damming the swiftly flowing river and then letting the walls burst, sending the waters rushing forth faster than ever. Yawning, he opened his book to the next chapter and reached for that inner switch, yanking it with the keen enthusiasm of an addict and felt the reassuring blackness swell over him.

----------------------------------------------

As everything blurred back into clarity, he glanced at the closed book for a reassurance he had long since ceased to require and then laced up his running shoes for another dose of blackness.

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Another Friday night at a trendy inner city bar and he was sitting next to an elegant creature dressed in flattering tones and curves. He gave it five minutes to see if anything original would come out of her lips and then reached gently for the switch. Nowadays, even the final throes were of little interest to him, and the discrete notches on the bedpost - a few on the right side as well for variety's sake - gave him the most satisfaction.

He wondered if she would sell the story. This close to the games, his profile was running hot on the press. There would probably be a few knowing grins at the track tomorrow. Smirking, he glanced at his watch and then ever conscious of his mortality, he clutched for sleep and was given it.

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They had gone out hard. It gave him no small satisfaction to see the beads of perspiration rolling down the Kenyan's face, past his treacherous mouth, which was only too well betraying what the exertion was costing him. On his left though, he could still see no sign of fatigue. That was how he liked it.

Ten kilometres on and he was still there, the two athletes running alone down the empty streets. The clipped, efficient stride showed no sign of strain and he had to admit some admiration.

Admiration became alarm as ever so gradually, the effort became greater and the neurons in his legs began to complain. His opponent saw his almost panicked glance and grinned, baring whitened teeth.

"Not now, not this time" he begged, but the temptation and pain was too great and when he could see again, the gold medal was being placed around his neck and the olive wreath on his head and his hand was being shaken by a wizened once-was and the anthem was being played over the applauding crowd and it was the greatest moment of his life.

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As he lay there dying, alone, notwithstanding the people clustered around him, whom he barely knew, with their teary faces and clinging hands, his life played back before him. An ironic smile crossed his lips as he watched himself building it.

He reached for the switch one last time..