I stared at the computer screen, watching the numbers scroll by. My eyes were fixed on the countdown timer, but I wasn’t really seeing it. The numbers meant nothing to me. They were just numbers.
But then, suddenly, the timer stopped.
I gasped, and quickly looked at the computer screen. The numbers had disappeared, replaced by a message.
“Conquer without wanting to do it.”
The message was written in a strange, cryptic language, but I didn’t need to understand it to know what it meant.
The timer had stopped because I had conquered. I had won the race.
But the victory wasn’t what I had wanted.
The victory had been brutal and bloody, and it had taken everything I had to win.
The computer screen had showed me the inner vision, the analog analysis. I had seen the countdown timer, and I had known that I had only have a few seconds to win the race. But I hadn’t wanted to win. I had wanted to be able to conquer without having to do anything.
But now I had done it. I had conquered without wanting to do it. And the cost had been high.
Legal Stuff