Games rarely go into single points. The system is conceived so that the stronger team, the one that can prove its superiority and dominate the first four goals, will leave the other team on the field in the shortest time possible. Or, as they used to say where I come from, “Adiós, Lolita de mi vida!”
Nor is it very easy to score a goal. The Mayas may have thought that it was nearly impossible to propel the rubber ball on their tlachtli, using only their knees, hips, and elbows, through the high stone hoop barely wider than the ball itself, but if they’d seen Voxl they would have thought their game was child’s play.
There are only a handful of rules. You can touch the voxl with any part of your body, but there is no hoop or goal posts or anything of the sort. You make a goal by sending the voxl on a triple rebound between two opposite walls (including floor and ceiling) without any interference from the opposing side after the last touch from the player who sets it in motion.
And doing that, again, is anything but easy.
When you also take into account the fact that the concept of fouling or rough play doesn’t exist in Voxl, you’ll have a better understanding of the true purpose of the forcefield armor suits. First and foremost, they keep the players’ backbones from being shattered into a thousand pieces half a minute into the match. The suits have the curious and highly useful property of possessing a large moment of inertia. In addition to their tendency to act like a compact mass whenever hit by an external impact. That is, when a 650-pound Colossaur falls on top of you going a hundred miles an hour, you won’t be inexorably pulverized; instead, you will “merely” be sent flying slowly in the opposite direction…
Even so, injuries happen all the time. And that’s where the sub comes in, to take the place of the wounded guy while the medical monitor fixes his sprain, dislocation, or broken bone with its orthopedic machinery, making him good as new with a nice dose of custom drugs and regenerative synthetic hormones.
The bell rings again. It’s coming. Any moment now…
There it is!
The size of a human head and tinted a vivid green, the voxl materializes against the immaculate white of the court. The League team uniforms are magenta blurs, racing to capture it. We’re bolts of pink-and-blue lightning, out to stop them. Bursts of color, putting the spectators’ visual agility to the test as they try to decipher the tangled web of our nearly supersonic movements.
Mvamba picks up speed by bouncing off the Great Dane’s stomach. Kowalsky and the two Cetians use the Colossaur’s huge shoulders to do the same. The Slovsky twins flank the walls. Yukio bounces off of me, and I set off spinning across the floor almost frictionlessly, aiming to sweep opponents aside and intercept the voxl.
The Colossaur smashes into Mvamba, rolls over him, and keeps going. Mvamba is swept aside like a feather, spinning erratically. Arno tries to cut off the ogre from Colossa, but is unable to contain him. Bad. Oh, better: the Slovsky twins run into the Cetian clones and dominate them. Yukio gains control, and the first bounce is ours…
But Kowalsky jumps and avoids my sweep. He goes after Yukio, runs into him, uses the momentum to get off the ground. Very bad. He reaches the voxl after its second bounce and sends it sideways. One bounce, two… One of the Slovskys (I can never tell them apart) intercepts and dominates it. Our bounces. One, two,… The Colossaur steps in. Arno tries to stop him, but a half turn and a twist neutralize him, and the third bounce is ruined. He’s strong, this Colossa kid.
Now he’s dominating. One, two… I’ll stop this…
But here comes Tamon Kowalsky, slipping between Yukio and me and separating us. Very talented… Three.
FIRST GOAL GOES TO THE LEAGUE: SIX TO ZERO!
They’re good, they’re the best damned players I’ve ever met. I call time and coach my players.
“Now it’s their serve. Dangerous,” I warn them over the audio system. “Arno, you underestimated the Colossaur. You’re no match for his strength, one on one. Yukio and Mvamba, take care of that ogre. Play him for speed. And you, Great Dane, neutralize that renegade. As if your life depended on it, Korvaldsen. Twins, good play, guys—keep doing that, but don’t get cocky. Those clones are real treacherous.”
Voxl on the visitors’ side. It touches the floor, shoots off. One of the Cetians controls it, a Slovsky intercepts. But doesn’t dominate, lets it get away. The Colossaur, confused by Yukio and Mvamba. Arno corrals Kowalsky against the ceiling. Here’s my chance.
I jump in and capture it. Dominate it, and here goes the bounce: one, two… My guards forgot about the Colossaur’s tail. It flicks me aside with a skillful backslap and I mess up my own goal.
Now it’s a Cetian with the voxl. Kowalsky blocks me, but the Slovskys jump in. One bounce…. The twins are fast, they snatch it before the second rebound.
They block the Colossaur’s back and pass it to Yukio, who makes a breakaway. He’s our lightest player, our swiftest. One, two, thr… Kowalsky blocks it at the last second, goes into a secret pass, and now the Colossaur has it. He’s too slow, he’ll have to pass it to one of the others. Arno?
The Blond Hulk gets there on time, sets his weight and inertia against the giant xenoid’s, and spoils his pass. Voxl out of control. Jan Slovsky traps it at low velocity, bounces against the ceiling. He’s magnificent. How did he capture it?
I stop one of the Cetians. This is going well. The Slovskys: one, two, thr… Kowalsky, again! The worst thing is, the twins are following the same playbook their father created for that renegade when he was captain of the Hussars. That won’t work.
Now he rebounds, evading Mvamba. This Tamon is a thorn in my side. Lev Slovsky joins in, his brother supporting him from behind: the renegade can’t escape the pair of them. They’re like one mind in two bodies… Shit, he tricked them! He wasn’t trying for a goal. He passes to a Cetian who’s not guarded. I try to get there, but… Floor, ceiling… Yeah, I have time…
Ohhh… The Colossaur hurls Mvamba, blocking my way. Floor again: that’s three. Hell and damnation.
SECOND GOAL TO THE LEAGUE: ELEVEN TO ZERO!
I call time again.
“Captain, I suggest you switch tactics.” Gopal’s voice is cold. He only calls me “captain” when he thinks I’m not doing it right. But what more does he want? “Be creative: they’re expecting twins against clones and for you to go for the goal. Kowalsky is the real danger; have the Slovskys stop him, and leave the clones to the African and the samurai. Your skill against the Colossaur’s brute strength, and that leaves Arno free to go for the triple rebound. He can do it.”
“We’ll see,” I reply, a little skeptical. It’s a risky formation, but it might work. I’m not sure I can handle the Colossaur. Nearly three times my weight, and besides, that tail… But, nothing ventured, nothing gained. End of time out.
There’s the voxl, on their side. They head out, intending to hold to the strategy that’s already given them an eleven-point lead. They hesitate for an instant when they notice our changed lineup. What were you expecting, weirdos? Humans must be the only animals who will trip over the same rock twice—but never three times.
The twins completely cancel out Kowalsky on the second rebound. Good for their morale: seeing that they can take on their idol. Mvamba and Yukio are keeping pace with the clones, the voxl is left unguarded, and the Colossaur can’t decide between the Dane and me… Perfect, he’s going for the one with more body weight.