— Nayeon Kwon (Nancy) 10GC Mulchat—
10th Mar. 2016.
Did you ever dream about the 31st century? How life would be, and how different people would become? Well, it is truly far away and no one knows what would happen during that period. However, given the topic of ‘Sports’ I have decided to take a guess about the future Olympic that will take place in the 31st century.
“Welcome to the 3010 Olympic! As you know, there are hundreds of sports that you can participate in. From the ancient marathon, ranging up to our famous……………”
A whirl of excited screams whips through the crowd, tuning the voice of the speaker off. The speaker waits for the claps and whoops to end. He begins talking again.
“Oh, well, you will get to watch the games soon enough, so I guess I don’t need to tell you about it now. Before we begin, we shall watch a clip about our past to remember the work of our ancestors and praise the developments that we have achieved up to now.”
As he motions to the big screen behind him, a flash of flamboyant colours splash on top of it. The developments of the human life passes by — ranging from hover boards to bombs that can kill millions of people at once. Then the Third World War occurs. Blood splashes onto the screens. People in it screams in pain and begs for mercy. Yet everyone in the crowd doesn’t care about the goriness of the scene, nor the gruesome intake it gives an average human being. One of them yawns in boredom. The Third World War finally ends with a nuclear bomb launched in one of the countries. That country disappears into ashes. The video finally ends with the captives being dragged out of the country and becoming slaves. Everyone claps and screams full of joy. The speaker comes back out and cheerfully announces the start of the games.
“Now, let the games begin!”
A clap of his hands brings out a bunch of people onto the stadium. They only have a strip of clothes tied onto their bare bodies. The parts of their body that are seen to the crowd are scarred and bloody, with occasional oozes of yellow goo coming out. Their faces are contorted with pain and humiliation as they stare at their hands, which are chained to one another. The metal handcuffs are too stiff, scratching their bare hands by the slightest of movements. Their features resemble the one of the captives shown on the screen. The crowd cheers as they watch the prey getting embarrassed. The juxtaposition of glee and fear increases the tension in the atmosphere of the stadium.
Then the games begin.
The games of the 31st century are quite similar to the one of the 21st century. Yet there is a major difference. All the targets — for archery and shooting — are replaced by actual human beings. All the larger balls that are being used — for handball, volleyball, basketball, rugby, and football — are freshly cut off from the head of one of the captives, and thrown into the games whenever necessary. All the smaller balls that are being used — for hockey, table tennis, tennis, and golf — are dug out form the eyes of the prey that are standing next to the organisers, before the games begin.
Blood explodes out from the wounds. The blood of the head and eyeballs soak the clothes of the players. Their uniform of all colours get united into one — puce red — after the games. Yet no one cares about the blood nor the stench it carries. They sniff on the metallic scent and are thrilled by it. Some even taste the blood and smile in glee. The taste of blood energises them and the animalistic nature of humans are shown by their barbaric behaviours. They roam around the stadium after their victory, holding on to the bloody head, and enjoys it, without any regret.
After the eyeballs and head are removed from the bodies, the body of the dead are carried over to the restaurants, getting prepared for the meal of the audience. Their skins are pealed off, and it resembles ordinary pork. These meat are cooked in an orderly fashion and are plated neatly onto the tables before the audience arrives. The audience compliments the taste and freshness of their steak and returns to the stadium. A week passes quickly, with the games entertaining the audience. They finally start the last game of the Olympics. The speaker returns to his post.
“Ladies and gentlemen, did you enjoy the games? Well, I’m sorry to tell you that this one shall be the last of our games. However, it is going to be the best overall. I present you, the last, but not the least — THE CARNAGE GAME!”
The bloodthirsty crowd replies with a large hoot. A hundred people are dragged out to the middle of the stadium. Their faces are full of fear, from the dread for their future. Then the organisers give them each a weapon of their taste. On the count of three, they are given the choice to shoot, or stab the one next to them, if they wish to survive. The speaker promises them each a chance to survive, if, and only if they kill their family, their friends. The last one to stand shall be the only one to stand and survive in this wretched game.
Will they do it? The crowd already knows the answer. Their request for more blood has gathered this massive craving, this lust for brutal deaths. It is as though the ancient game of Emperor Nero of Rome is revived. Everyone is stabbing each other, for the sake of their own lives. The brown sand that is placed on the floor of the stadium turns red. It gets soggy, drowned by the litres of blood that are being spilled from the victims. The screams of the victims are haunting, as they die a horrible death, and then are trampled down by the feet of the next victims. The actions are truly barbaric. To save their own lives, anyone can do anything.
Finally, ninety-nine of the hundred victims die. The last one standing looks around him. The corpses create a mountain in the middle of the field. The red carpet that has been created by the blood greet the winner. Yet as the winner looks around him, he recognises what he has done. Regret fills his eyes, and he begins sobbing madly.
The speaker reaches down from the podium. He reaches for the large ax that the winner holds. He uses the ax to chop the head of the winner. It tumbles off easily. The speaker grins with blood smeared on his face.
“Now everyone, the games have ended. You know that there should be no winner for the carnage game. None of them have the right to live. They are our captives, brought to us by their ancestor’s sins, are they not? We have the right to kill those disgraceful things that have killed our family, our friends during the Third World War. You know it, right?”
The crowd nods in agreement. The speaker smiles.
“Thank you. I’ll see you again after four years. See you then.”
Everyone leaves the stadium. Their slaves are left behind, cleaning up the corpses. They sob as they find faces that they recognise among the dead. But there is no way to revive them, nor to save them. Their cries echo over the stadium.