The Game of Blox

...we’re waiting to play, all pumped up...come on, let’s get on with it. I’m grinding my teeth. The noise outside is deafening as two more lucky players assume their positions. The smells of sweat and fear and adrenaline and psychoses and shit are overpowering...I’m suddenly gagging. Claustrophobia and panic surge like acid vomit. My molten bowels churn, my heart races, my breath is short and shallow. Come on, come on, after all these months of hard, hard training, of focus, I’m ready now for this trial by ordeal...

There’s the rumbling friction of the Blox, vibrating through the very fabric of the Arena. What we’ve been trained for. Someone down here cries out and there is a grumble of disapproval...the waiting has been the undoing of many a stout heart, the waiting and the anticipation...and there’s the Slam, the bone-jarring Slam, that molecular percussion of mind that blinds and shatters, and we stagger, all of us who wait below, reeling in the impact, scrambling our sound and vision, blurring colour, bending light, holding on, holding on to who you thought you were...

Our collective breath is held, in response to what’s going on up there, on the smooth marble playing field. It will be my turn to play soon. We hold on tight, listening to the blood roaring in our ears.

What can I tell you? It’s an honour? That I volunteered? I’m only in it for the money? That it seemed like fun, that it was a new experience I wanted to try, that I wanted to prove something to someone, and maybe even to myself....no, that would all be completely untrue. I would be telling lies. If I told you that I’ve been specially selected because of particular talents that I may have manifested in the course of a short life gnawed at by hunger and pain, hunger and pain, I would most sincerely be lying....Would I like to go to the electric chair, buzz buzz, or would I like to play a little game? Some choice...

I elected to play, of course. We all did.

It was just that I couldn’t have become a drone, and that was what was going to happen to me. My whole life, spent working for the benefit of the elite. No, that wasn’t going to happen to me. I have too much life in me for that. Eldest Uncle said it would be the death of me, and perhaps his prophecy may yet be realised, but at least not before it was the death of him. I took a hammer to his head. His skull popped, just like cracking an egg. The hammerhead made a perfectly round indentation. He made a disgusting little sucking sound with his mouth as he sank to his knees. I couldn’t stop hitting him after that. He deserved it.

Of course, I told them what he used to make us do, but they weren’t interested in that (because he was an Elder and it would have caused a big stir and besides, I was only a kid, and it was impossible to prove). They only cared about what I’d done (because that was so obvious – I was covered in his mushy grey brains when they found me). It was an open and shut case, so they said, whatever that means.

There’s the grinding grating and the roar again, and we brace ourselves in the stifling heat below the Arena, but this time, there is no impact above, even though we wait for it for what seems like an eternity. The crowd will tell us when there’s blood and gristle. They will bay like wolves. They will lap it up like dogs. It’s what they pay their money for.

Shit, they’re going at it again, and so quickly, accelerating now by surprise to hypervelocity...this time there will be no chance...this time for sure, oh yes, here we go, hold on...aaahhhh! Aaaarrrrgggghhh...arghhhh...!!! An impact, SLAM, and the crowd screaming, and the polished black marble wet and glistening, and the shards thrown to the four corners of the Board by the impact...and the line staggers forward as the new contestants take their positions. Come on, come on, I’m ready now to meet my maker, I’m not afraid. I’m ready now to play the game.

The Game of Blox

I step onto a vast black marble field. Around me, the Arena, denied to me by sight, the lights are blinding, but I can hear them screaming frenzied bets, calculating my resistance, weighing my strength. I am the rock, I am the hard place, the irrisistible force, the immovable object. I am ready. I am ready to play this game now. I cannot see across the polished marble. I am not supposed to see.

My heart is pumping hard but I suddenly feel weak. My knees want to buckle, my anus twitches. I see Uncle's face, distorted by the hammerblows and I push it down, down. down into the deepest parts of me. His ghost wants to sap my will but I will not allow it, I will not allow it.

They told me the Blox will always know, will always show the truth. I don’t believe them. They don’t really care about the truth. It doesn’t matter now anyway.

I’m in position, toe to the line, and a trapdoor before me in the black floor open-closes noiselessly, delivering my Blok. It’s like nothing I’ve ever touched before. It hums. It’s electric. It vibrates with power. It is searching me, weighing me in the balance. It’s a grey metallic-shiny-smooth cube hovers not connected not touching the smooth black marble field of play. I’m sweating heart racing hyperventilating and the lights flash-crash out of the darkness. It measures me. I can feel its urgent, probing touch, searching, touching all the secret things in the warm velvet box. And when it knows the darkest part of me, it's gone, without a trace.

It’s a relief. I think I’m prepared - as much as I’ll ever be at any rate. Let’s get on with it. Let’s get it over with, even though I’m frightened. I’m frightened. The Blok sits there, seeming to breath...it expands and contracts...something is impelling me to touch it, so I raise my palms and stretch my fingers...there...it crackles under my touch, like I'm connected...it feels good at last...this is it.

The crowd fall silent. We are ready to begin. The Blox are ready at either end, and now I’ll start to push. It feels warm under my palms; I can feel its vital power. It starts to slide, a little resistant at first, and the effort required focuses my fear. We accelerate slowly. The Blok grows in size, becomes easier to push...and we pick up speed...I’m running, my bare feet push against the smooth cool marble...the grating increases...the Blok is picking up momentum and I put my head down and my shoulder to it and push with all my might but here there comes an image in my mind that the opposing Blox is stronger faster bigger hit me harder harder harder roar the crowd with laughter all my blood go splitter splatter coming to the point of impact racing across the marble field grating grinding gritting teeth here it comes here it comes...

We’re slowing. Impossible! I’ve prepared for impact, braced myself...the Blox are both slowing. Mine is large now, throbbing, but empty, insubstantial, while the other is tiny and though we’ve rushed to impact, suddenly we slow and...contact...but oh so gently and I’m stunned and exhausted and the touch is like a feather-breath that wracks me with pain and guilt and hurting...but I must return to make a second run and its then when I think about my opponent. Who is my opponent? Don't I recognize him?

It is Eldest Uncle. He snarls at me, wishes me dead, shows me the yellows of his eyes, his black lips drawn...I remember his sweet breath, sweet as honey, sweet as death.

I push and run again, with all my might. Impact moderate. I’m reeling and shattered but still in the game. I’ve split my head open, and lost an eye and several teeth, and perhaps something in my shoulder has broken but the drugs are coursing through my veins now and I can’t feel a thing. The crowd go wild, but I can only hear them intermittently. That last impact moderate has blown out my eardrums. I’m getting tired. The Blok will try me to the utmost.

Third time lucky maybe. The Blox are giving good value for money on this game. Fortunes are being made and unmade. I’m dreading the third run. Eldest Uncle has returned, seems invincible, and now my strength is fast depleting. I can feel it flowing out of me, draining away...Grating and grinding, the Blok rushes on, consolidating, massing, building up for impact, and I’m pushing and pushing, and smashing Eldest Uncle with the hammer and hating and screaming and the grey matter is flying and the Blox are now pulsing and growing, accelerating sharply...this time yes this time here it comes here it comes...now...
AAAAARRRRGGHHHH!

...we’re waiting to play, all pumped up...come on, let’s get on with it. I’m grinding my teeth. The noise outside is deafening as two more players assume their positions. The smells of sweat and fear and adrenaline and psychoses and shit are overpowering...I’m suddenly gagging. Claustrophobia and panic surges like acid vomit. My molten bowels churn, my heart races, my breath is short and shallow. Come on, come on, after all these months of hard, hard training, of focus. I’m ready now for this trial by ordeal...