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Sports Day, Chapter Two

By Doc Sherwood

By Doc SherwoodPublished about a year ago 8 min read
2

Sunset Point.

Joe and Neetra had been in agreement that this Nottingham was going to need one. Now the solitary knoll stood dark and aptly-named against an incandescent sky, casting its enormous shadow over pitches and tracks. The most rigorous obstacle-course available, for nothing less would have served.

Pilgrims in pants were flocking to its bulk, behind which sat the sun. Neetra joined them, as did Bourdon, large and lumbering amidst the minis. Trammelled grass and baked earth were giving back all that the day had lent, and evening cool seemed to be waiting until this final race was run. The place was on a simmer.

Neetra knew why, as the last of the crowd parted to let her through.

There was Flashtease in his grey and yellow tunic, limbering-up. Beside him Flashstanch did the same. She was younger than he was, but a senior too in her green and red, plus a movie-star hairdo which Neetra wished she could get her own to go like. Not that there was the least taint of movie-star vanity about Flashstanch. It was the boys who’d never let her forget her one small television role as Middle Dancing Gantrative, all those years ago.

She’d been formidable at sports too, Neetra happened to know, back in her beige days. Now, outside of the Special Program, she was the best girl Nottingham had.

Flashtease meanwhile was the best of the boys. If any male Mini-Flash was in with a chance, it was he.

Never before had this pair faced each other at Sports Day.

Neetra closed her eyes and quietly breathed in the warm evening. She’d chosen Sunset Point, and Bourdon had needed to be here. There was much in that.

She turned to face the contestants and beyond them a Mini-Flash sea, one green metallic chest and head and shoulders tall above the wide mouths and eyes. There wasn’t a beige-clad boy who seemed capable of leaving his underwear alone for half a minute, and even over the girls hovered an unaccustomed mood of apprehension.

After giving out good luck hugs and kisses Neetra raised her hands high, putting Flashtease and Flashstanch under starter’s orders. They crouched down at once on all fours, or rather Mini-Flash style which meant all threes, each using the other hand to tug their tunic-hem down in back and so remain decent for the audience. It still looked funny to Neetra when boys did that.

So much for Lindsay and Megan, then. Eat your heart out, Natalie Wood.

Neetra relaxed her outstretched arms and let them bounce down by her sides.

Turned out that what two onrushing hot-rods could do to a troubled teen’s petticoats, two Mini-Flashes going all-out could do to Neetra’s skirt. Breathless our heroine turned with the slipstream on either side of her and was thankful for the second time that day she’d worn her best vintage frilly-backs, knowing too the universal gaze wasn’t on them anyway but a pair of figures already committed to scaling Sunset Point.

Each still primly pinced their skirts behind them as they ranged the foothills scrambling for a surmountable route. Neetra knew the ground, and had been well aware neither Mini-Flash would try to tackle its eastern approach head-on. Flat soles would only have slipped and bare legs trembled at the punishing sheer grassy slickness. That meant the luck of the gradient was all. The second gender may have been stronger and faster, but if Flashtease happened to hit on a path less rambling than Flashstanch’s, he’d keep himself in the game.

Neetra congratulated herself on her racetrack selection policy. The rhythmic roar of the crowd around her was quite sweeping her up.

Now! Flashstanch’s golden ringlets were first to etch themselves against contrasting reddish cloud, but a hair’s breadth was all there was in it. For her to run round the bench that stood on Sunset Point’s summit would have been to hand Flashtease her lead. Nottingham’s Mini-Flash population, risking a crick in its collective neck, watched riveted as Flashstanch did what anyone might and vaulted the hurdle instead. Flashtease at her heels leapt too, but not to follow. Rather, he flattened his body in an unhesitating dive straight through the overgrown region between the bench’s iron legs, to burst out the other side scampering frantically on hands and knees.

The crowd erupted.

Flashtease’s pants had put in their long-awaited first appearance, preceding by an infinitesimal interval that of Flashstanch’s lacy trim as she hopped from the slats and gave chase.

“Galloping Gaagan!” Bourdon expectorated.

All at once everybody else was moving too. The forest floor about the east slope had become a tide, made of touselled heads and hair-ribbons and urgent bumping tunic-backs. Neetra and Bourdon were carried on the surge, which parted around Sunset Point and so rushed from shade to magnificent light, the last of the day. Beige-booted overspill trampled heedless on hill-flanks, only to plunge with the rest of the barrage for realms of celestial afterglow.

Far overhead the struggle proceeded down a western flank streaked with fire. Neetra and her fellow fans pooled behind the finish-tape, and on every side was Mini-Flash tumult.

It was still anybody’s game. In a straight slalom the advantage was Flashstanch’s, but Flashtease was clinging to every spare second he’d wrested.

No, they were neck-and-neck.

No, Flashtease.

No, Flashstanch.

Would the outcome reinscribe a status quo with which the girls were comfortable, or would the boys at long last draw their line in the sand?

No more losing to girls.

Of all their number, surely old Flashtease had been the one destined to do it.

They were neck-and-neck.

They couldn’t be.

But it –

Oh!

Even Neetra had forgotten that dip low down on the sun-facing side, so sneakily abrupt it was wont to take even the walker unawares. Flashtease and Flashstanch, going full-pelt with their eyes on the prize, experienced no change in either pace or direction but a sudden absence of turf. The late slanting beams had been as unto barriers between which they raced, and still within these bounds the startled Mini-Flashes sailed for several breaths more, until gravity and momentum commanded they quit their direct path to the sun.

Thump.

There was absolutely no distinguishing between the twin impacts.

Thud. Thump.

Nor the second bounce, nor indeed the third. By which time there was little point speaking of two distinct individuals anyway, such intertwining of sweaty pink bodies having ensued.

Thus they tumbled the last bumps and banks and slid neatly through the end-posts together.

It was the galaxy’s first boy-girl tie. The Mini-Flashes didn’t know what to make of it, having only ever seen female victories before. Fortunately Neetra was on hand with several Earth-expressions – draw, dead heat, fairest possible result – to bridge any gaps in the local language. There was great jubilation, and endless praise for Flashtease, and easily as much for Flashstanch.

Neetra herself was glad to have been there. It was evidence she and Joe were on the right track, and the date would be added to their Nottingham calendar as a public holiday for future years. Beyond that however, and of course telling Tidshaw and Autumn about it one day, our heroine wasn’t sure there was very much else she could do with this particular turning-point. For Neetra it was a reminder that many of the most significant changes happen in comparably innocuous fashion, such that neither we nor history take note of them.

Not so Bourdon however. In the middle of the Mini-Flash excitement, he took Neetra quietly to one side and told her it was time for him to go.

To Bourdon’s way of thinking, the race’s result represented a fundamental shift in the balance of power. He was thrilled. It was as good as a planetary conjunction. Neetra, who knew at least a little about how Bourdon and his seniors worked, felt that perhaps she could understand. From the plane of reality those robots occupied, sustained by certain forces which were ever in tumult over here, a pair of grubby Mini-Flashes rolling to rest under the finish-line might be the most important thing.

All the same, she couldn’t resist hinting to Bourdon there was more to it than he knew. Maybe one day, when he was ready, he could visit them again and learn more.

Bourdon promised he would. Then he lit his little jets and scooted for the deepening sky.

Neetra looked back to the assembly at the foot of the knoll. There was still just about enough light to see by, though Shadow and Jenny for obvious reasons were hard to make out in the dusk. Flashbuoy on the other hand you couldn’t miss, or fail to hear, for Neetra knew he wouldn’t be done enthusing over what had happened this side of midnight. Then Presh, and dear Robin, and so many others. At the heart of their celebrations though, who but the boy and girl of the hour? Flashstanch so lovely that Neetra truly didn’t see why the Galactic Wildlife Revue had to enter into it at all, and by her side, Flashtease.

For him, Neetra allowed herself a smile, one which was not without a touch of the bittersweet.

That little boy who’d adored her.

How they’d both grown up. Look at him now, same bare legs and freckles, but these traits of boyishness conspicuously clung to what would soon be far finer. Not yet a man, any more than Neetra was a woman, but already a leader to his people and as much a follower of the cause as any who had trodden this hill.

Sunset Point.

And there were Neetra’s Mini-Flashes, beholding with a wild surmise the creation of their new Nottingham.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

Sci Fi
2

About the Creator

Doc Sherwood

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

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    Well-structured & engaging content

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    Original narrative & well developed characters

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Comments (1)

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  • Staringale3 months ago

    Just read the first chapter and here to read the second one. The picture with robot falling in love is so cute and goes well with the narrative. I am curious do you ever find it difficult to come up with the character names for your different fiction stories?

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