OG Anunoby realized that he was lying on a hard surface, and just as quickly realized that there was no reason for him to being on a hard surface unless something had gone terribly wrong.
“This isn’t funny, guys,” he said without opening his eyes, assuming that some of his teammates, prone to juvenile practical jokes, had knocked him out and left him in a toilet stall or something. Such violence would be over the line even for the crude jokesters on the team, but he could think of no better explanation. His teammates had strange ways of celebrating the successes of one of their own.
But there was no response from any of his teammates. This didn’t make sense, because they were always very undisciplined when they attempted to cover up their giggling. He opened his eyes to find out what was going on, only to have his plausible, though mean-spirited, explanation of the situation get completely nullified.
Wherever he was, it wasn’t anywhere that he recognized. It didn’t even seem earthly. A marble floor was below him, stone walls flanking tall, arched windows were to his sides, and a faintly-illuminated sheet of gray clouds was above him. The walls seemed to go on forever in each direction, forming a hall of infinite vastness. No teammates were anywhere to be found. Neither could any other people be seen. The sound of his feet sliding against the smooth floor was the only sound that graced his ears. Otherwise, it was totally quiet and he was totally alone.
Seeing nothing better to do, OG started walking. A golden light filtered through the clouds and came in through the windows, gently warming his body in a very pleasant way. It all felt very palatial, and, despite not having any clue where he was, OG had an intuition that he was in no danger. In fact, that same intuition told him that he was in a place that was designed for his benefit. His mind should have been disturbed by the unexpected circumstances, but it was instead serene as he walked.
After an unknowable amount of time passed (OG had noticed some time ago that he was naked, which also meant he had no phone with which to check the time), he saw something in the distance that caught his eye. Hurrying towards it, he saw it was a small kitchenette which was modern-looking in contrast to the somewhat ancient appearance of the rest of the place. There was a refrigerator, which, when opened, revealed itself to be empty. That was okay. OG felt no hunger or thirst.
There was also a machine sitting on the counter. OG recognized it as a milkshake machine, for he had something similar in his own apartment that he often used to make calorie-dense treats for himself. He pushed the button on the side, wondering if anything would happen. He hadn’t put any ingredients in, but if this place was supernatural, then it wouldn’t necessarily need ingredients to produce a milkshake for him.
The machine worked for a few seconds and then, as if by magic, produced a milkshake through a slot in the front. OG was about to grab it for a taste-test when he heard footsteps running up from behind him.
“Stop! Stop! That machine is off-limits!” yelled the man, who, in contrast with OG’s nakedness, was clad in a white robe.
“Who says?” OG asked defiantly.
The man calmed his panting breath. “I do,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I am Carlos Delfino, the appointed guardian of the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers. I determine who has access to what in this sacred Hall. And you definitely don’t have access to that milkshake machine.”
OG took his milkshake. “Too late,” he gloated.
Something that resembled true concern passed across the other man’s face. “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you. Seriously.”
Ignoring this advice, OG took a big sip of the milkshake through the straw. However, he immediately spat it back out onto the pristine marble floor. “Guh! That’s nasty!” The flavor had been a mixture of dog food, dirt, and rotten vegetables.
“I warned you,” Carlos said. He had gotten another robe from somewhere and handed it to OG. It was luxuriantly comfortable. “The Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers is a place of unequaled contentment and serenity, but only if you play by the rules.”
“Got it. No milkshakes,” OG confirmed. The kitchenette had, somehow, vanished.
With Carlos’ words, OG remembered the events of his real life that had preceded his arrival here. “So if I scored thirty and ended up here, what happens when I score forty? Do I get to go to the moon?”
“There are rumors, but we do not speak of them here.” Carlos said. “I will leave you alone. Solitude is the main goal of the hall.”
Carlos walked away. OG did not try to stop him. Already, that same sense of serenity was washing over him again. He didn’t need milkshakes. All he needed was himself.