Earthian

Beginner

It’s exactly one year later. The sun is bright, the skies are blue, and I’m lying on the turf again. Feels like a coincidence, I guess.

But I’m just relaxing this time, enjoying my last summer before college. The blades of grass are soft. My friends are here, and the sun’s only so bright. Everything’s just right.  I don’t know why I’d ever screw this up.

Then a reason finds me. 

My buddy Wiley is reading something on his phone. “Hey Jason,” he says, “you on Audition yet? I can’t find you on the scoreboard.”

For a moment, I’m not sure I heard him right. “What’s that?”

“Oh wow… you haven’t heard. It’s, um… aw, just look it up.”

I’m too comfortable to pick my phone up right now. I just want this perfect day to feel like it lasts for something longer than a millisecond. Just a little while longer.

Sophia has a simple enough answer.  She says, “It’s a scoreboard.”

For what?

“For what?” I ask.

And the next word out of Sophia’s mouth is so weird, I will absolutely never forget it.  ”Everything,” she says.

Everybody else has a laugh and I feel dumb for not knowing, even though I know it’s ridiculous.

Sure enough, I look it up when I get home…

Welcome to…
Audition!

You’re already a competitor and you don’t even know it! Click below to complete your registration!

Man, that’s a bright background. I squint at it, and the truth is that I usually don’t play anything quite this enthusiastic, but… there’s no sense being left behind. I gesture at the screen, and the button flashes in response.

Thank you for registering, Jason Yun! You are now enrolled in Audition, the biggest competition ever devised. All across the globe, players just like you are already competing, advancing, and inching ever closer to the finish line.

Are you ready to compete?

I lean back and say, “Um… sure?” I seem to be fidgeting an awful lot.

“Ahem,” the computer says out loud. “I asked if you’re ready.”

With mock enthusiasm, I say, “Yeah.”

“That’ll do,” it replies. “What are you good at, Jason?”

“As in?”

“As in life. You’re pretty good at something. Everybody is. What is it?”

“Just one thing?” I ask.

“However many you’re good at.”

“Like, school subjects?”

“That… or anything else.”

Does the computer sound annoyed? And why do I feel like such an idiot today?

“Alright,” I say. “I’m pretty good at soccer, I guess. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it,” the computer says. “Here are some of the brackets your friend Martin Wiley is currently competing in: spelling, skateboarding, chopping wood, math, TV trivia…”

“I get it. You can stop.”

“So, Mr. Yun… what are you good at, then?”

The screen blinks with impatience.