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"Huff! Huff! Huff!" I couldn't do it, I just couldn't! I lay down on the "road" waiting for the car to come. Why wasn't this over? "If you don't run faster the car will hit you! Get up experiment 519!" shouted the intercom in a German accent.

"Haven't you ever heard of the saying take five?" I shouted back.

Oh, right, I forgot to introduce myself. Greetings, from planet somewhere! I'm James, James Bond. No not really, but I got you there didn't I? My real name is James Something-Or-Other. I'd tell you my last name but thanks a heap to Mr. Intercom-Voice I've been called experiment 519 so much I forgot my last name! I'm super-human fast and can jump higher than a kangaroo.

So I've been here for two long years doing nothing but running yadda yadda etc. etc. I'll save you all the stuff about hoping someone will save me. Mr. Intercom-Voice had decided to kidnap me when I was in my house. Sorry, ex-house. Then he had me run for five hours straight a day hoping I would get faster and faster until I was super-human fast.

This went on for eighteen months until he realized it wasn't working and injected something into the food I oh-so-hungrily wolfed-down. So now I'm super-human fast anyway. I can run faster than most sports cars in a flat out sprint for about four minutes but that's really pushing it. I was doing that right now.

Getting up I looked at the black Porsche speeding toward me. This thing was going fast. I wouldn't be able to keep very far ahead of the Porsche now. Man, running at two hundred and fifty miles per hour really took it out of ya'. Go ahead and be surprised but I told you I was super-human fast. I'd only be able to run at about two hundred and five mph. Not to mention evading and jumping over twenty foot high and twenty foot across blocks soaring at me.

Oh yeah, and another thing, guess what comes with running super fast, jumping really high. About thirty-two feet to be precise.

I started running. It took me about five seconds to get to ninety miles per hour. The scientists behind the observation glass wrote something down. "You must run faster!" shouted the intercom. Ha! I'd like to see him run this fast.

I'd reached about two-hundred miles per hour by now and was almost ready to fall down again when I saw the end of the "road" about two miles ahead. I figured it would take me about forty seconds to reach the end.

This was the last run for the day so that kept me going. I jumped, dodged right, dashed left, ducked down, twirled right, jumped twice, and skidded to a halt over the finish line two seconds before the Porshe.