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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2172401-The-Rock-Jockey
Rated: E · Fiction · Sci-fi · #2172401
Everyone assumed Earthers would set the new record due to their full G upbringing.
         Nine hundred kilos up and down. Thirty repetitions in near silence broken only by the squeak of the leg press as every face watched the site of yet another record being shattered by that no name newb from the belts.

         Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Sounds from the display over the machine as the high score is replaced with that same last name and first initial. The room was more than half filled with displays that now sported that same name in the top spot. He was working his way around the room, clockwise, and was not even breaking a sweat.

         The Olympic village athletes knew that none of these stats meant anything. He would still have to perform in public, in view of billions of viewers at home and untold numbers both physically present and virtually present as they competed. He would still have to repeat his mind-boggling performance after wasting so much energy on these displays. Pathetic really him showing off like this.

         "Excuse me," He said towards me, breaking me out of my thoughts, as he pulled out earplugs that I didn't realize were in.

         "Can you tell me if these weights are labeled correctly? They seem awfully light for some reason." He finished.

         "Those are exact to within a billionth of a gram according to the best scientific testing groups on earth." was my instant reply, remembering that much from senior year social studies class.

         "Earth!" He said loudly with a big grin splitting his face now.

         "That explains it," He finished as he put the earplugs back in.

         I watched in actual fear as he added another four hundred and fifty kilos before sitting back down and pushing the stack up with a grunt this time.

         "I forgot I wasn't on a grav train back home in the gym my family is running. We have it set up on one of the outermost tracks that give it the highest possible artificial gravity during its week-long acceleration phases." He explained to us in the room as if that made the slightest bit of sense to any of us.

         I sat on the bench I was standing over and started trying to change my bet. I knew it was illegal to bet on the outcomes, but everyone did it. The only problem was, I now knew that none of my bets stood a chance in hell of paying off due to this Samson of a man.

         "Okay everyone, lets head out and show the world what we can do!" I hear as the time is up and we are being herded out to our fates.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2172401-The-Rock-Jockey