PONG World
Level One
This story will make more sense if you read "PONG World: The History" first.
DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me. I don't owe Pong. Atari owns Pong. I am not Atari. I don't own Atari.
Cyrus pulled the gloves tightly over his hand. He tapped the palm of his glove on and off. The gloves contained a machine that would create a powerful reflecting force to bounce the ball. He tightened his metallic vest. He tapped and his feet and stretched a little. Two Players were about to put the Paddles against each other. Cyrus warmed himself up on the smooth black floor. The floor was lined with a bright white grid and it ran on for as far as the human eye can see. Cyrus eyed his enemy at the other end of the field. The white grid faded away and a gleaming ATARI logo hovered in the middle of the arena.
The match was beginning. The two Paddles' suits began glowing white. The Atari logo disappeared and the grid came back into view again. Cyrus saw his opponent pacing back and forth. He couldn't really see anything but a bright glow because of the massive distance between them. Cyrus looked up into the sky were the grid could not be seen but only the scoreboard. The scoreboard was made of two large numbers: 0 0. He looked down again and saw the ball. It was a pure white ball with a machine planted inside that glazed the surface and made it zero frictionless.
The horn sounded and the ball shot toward Cyrus. He ran at it with great speed and smacked it with all his force. It moved left. His enemy smacked it against the wall, which caused it to make a sharp right. It bounced of the right wall getting closer and closer to Cyrus. He ran after it as fast as he could. The ball got ever closer to Cyrus's wall. It was mere feet away from the wall when Cyrus dived for it. Cyrus grunted as he fell to the hard ground, knowing he missed the ball. An annoying buzzer sounded and the scoreboard changed: 1 0. Cyrus wiped the sweat off his brow and got ready for the ball again.
This was Cyrus's life. He was an ordinary paddle in the world of Pong. "DAMNIT!" Cyrus slammed his arm into the wall of the preparation room in anger. "5-1! I'm pathetic!" A hovering orb lowered to Cyrus's eye level. "Battle request in room 8324903" The robotic female voice said. "Crap, another game". Cyrus walked to the Transportation Chamber, still catching his breath from the last game. "I can't take much more of this." The pull cart came up and another Paddle got in before Cyrus. "I'm gonna be late".
It was the end of the day. Cyrus had competed in 18 tournaments and only won 5 of them. "If I don't catch up they are going to take me out. At least the Controllers gave us rest periods, these new Players work us 24/7." "Battle Request in room 1534730" Cyrus grumbled and walked to the Transportation Chamber for the umpteenth time today.
He, as all of the Paddles, was being worked non-stop by human Players. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt like he was going to go insane. He wished he did so he wouldn't have to suffer this physical beating. The worst part was he knew he wouldn't go insane because he was just another of a million Paddles and none have ever gone insane. They've just been good, or they've been bad, and if they're too bad they're killed. Cyrus was one of the oldest Paddles out there though. He was there at the beginning when Atari troops reinforced the new world and killed off all the Controllers. He thought it was a good thing. But he knew all of this mental wear-down had to have some effect. It couldn't just disappear into a bad memory. The younger Paddles didn't know it. They were still enjoying the sport. Cyrus remembered loving it too. He remembered being in the crowds cheering for Atari armies slaying the Controllers who enslaved them. Then he remembered being told of the extended work hours. Whenever a human Player was to turn a Pong unit on two Paddles would be ready and stationed at that unit.
Things would change. He knew it. Maybe not now, or any time soon, but there would be a time.
Level One
This story will make more sense if you read "PONG World: The History" first.
DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me. I don't owe Pong. Atari owns Pong. I am not Atari. I don't own Atari.
Cyrus pulled the gloves tightly over his hand. He tapped the palm of his glove on and off. The gloves contained a machine that would create a powerful reflecting force to bounce the ball. He tightened his metallic vest. He tapped and his feet and stretched a little. Two Players were about to put the Paddles against each other. Cyrus warmed himself up on the smooth black floor. The floor was lined with a bright white grid and it ran on for as far as the human eye can see. Cyrus eyed his enemy at the other end of the field. The white grid faded away and a gleaming ATARI logo hovered in the middle of the arena.
The match was beginning. The two Paddles' suits began glowing white. The Atari logo disappeared and the grid came back into view again. Cyrus saw his opponent pacing back and forth. He couldn't really see anything but a bright glow because of the massive distance between them. Cyrus looked up into the sky were the grid could not be seen but only the scoreboard. The scoreboard was made of two large numbers: 0 0. He looked down again and saw the ball. It was a pure white ball with a machine planted inside that glazed the surface and made it zero frictionless.
The horn sounded and the ball shot toward Cyrus. He ran at it with great speed and smacked it with all his force. It moved left. His enemy smacked it against the wall, which caused it to make a sharp right. It bounced of the right wall getting closer and closer to Cyrus. He ran after it as fast as he could. The ball got ever closer to Cyrus's wall. It was mere feet away from the wall when Cyrus dived for it. Cyrus grunted as he fell to the hard ground, knowing he missed the ball. An annoying buzzer sounded and the scoreboard changed: 1 0. Cyrus wiped the sweat off his brow and got ready for the ball again.
This was Cyrus's life. He was an ordinary paddle in the world of Pong. "DAMNIT!" Cyrus slammed his arm into the wall of the preparation room in anger. "5-1! I'm pathetic!" A hovering orb lowered to Cyrus's eye level. "Battle request in room 8324903" The robotic female voice said. "Crap, another game". Cyrus walked to the Transportation Chamber, still catching his breath from the last game. "I can't take much more of this." The pull cart came up and another Paddle got in before Cyrus. "I'm gonna be late".
It was the end of the day. Cyrus had competed in 18 tournaments and only won 5 of them. "If I don't catch up they are going to take me out. At least the Controllers gave us rest periods, these new Players work us 24/7." "Battle Request in room 1534730" Cyrus grumbled and walked to the Transportation Chamber for the umpteenth time today.
He, as all of the Paddles, was being worked non-stop by human Players. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt like he was going to go insane. He wished he did so he wouldn't have to suffer this physical beating. The worst part was he knew he wouldn't go insane because he was just another of a million Paddles and none have ever gone insane. They've just been good, or they've been bad, and if they're too bad they're killed. Cyrus was one of the oldest Paddles out there though. He was there at the beginning when Atari troops reinforced the new world and killed off all the Controllers. He thought it was a good thing. But he knew all of this mental wear-down had to have some effect. It couldn't just disappear into a bad memory. The younger Paddles didn't know it. They were still enjoying the sport. Cyrus remembered loving it too. He remembered being in the crowds cheering for Atari armies slaying the Controllers who enslaved them. Then he remembered being told of the extended work hours. Whenever a human Player was to turn a Pong unit on two Paddles would be ready and stationed at that unit.
Things would change. He knew it. Maybe not now, or any time soon, but there would be a time.