Michael Porter Jr. rolled over groggily, slowly awakening from what must have been a very deep sleep. However, when his nose smashed against the unyieldingly hard surface below him, his return to full consciousness was hastened substantially. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at a floor made out of pure marble. Thinking that his postgame celebrations had led him to black out in some ornate hotel lobby, he rolled over onto his back in preparation of getting to his feet.
Above him were not the chandeliers and ceiling decorations that he expected. Instead, a pale sky awash with silvery gray clouds floated above him. To either side, medieval-looking walls made out of stone rose up until they vanished into the placid cloud cover. If this was part of one of the Orlando resorts, he had never seen it before. Rising to his feet, he walked to one of the cathedral-style windows which looked out past those solid stone walls, hoping to get his bearings by looking for known landmarks.
The view outside the windows, however, was completely featureless. A perfect void of matter met his eyes, scintillating with a golden light which was sourced from some unseen sun. Where, exactly, was he?
Abandoning the window, Michael looked up and down the grand hall that he had found himself in. The smooth marble floor seemed to continue forever with no visible endpoint. And as he walked and walked, wondering if the fountains that he passed somehow held answers within their burbling waters, that suspicion of the hall’s infinite nature grew into a certainty.
“Michael! Michael!” shouted a distant voice from behind him. Surprised that there was another living being in this place, Michael turned around to see a human figure approaching from far away. He stood in place until the man had reached him, hoping that he could have some questions answered.
The man took a moment to catch his breath before standing up straight. “Welcome, Michael Porter Jr., to the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers. Here is your complementary robe.”
Michael was handed a white robe made out of impossibly soft, velvety material. He pulled it over his naked body and relished the feel of the fabric sliding against his skin. “Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers, you say? Man, this is one trippy dream.”
“It is no dream,” replied the man. “Think of it as a realm adjacent to, but not beyond, reality, where all anxieties vanish and where pure contentedness soothes the weary mind. And my name is Carlos Delfino, the appointed guardian of the Hall.”
“Well, Carlos,” Michael said, looking around. “So far it’s just us dudes. Are there any chicks around?”
Carlos shook his head. “Entrance to the hall is strictly limited to those who have scored thirty points or greater in an NBA-sanctioned contest. No woman meets those criteria, and I would face the wrath of the overseers if unauthorized visitors were discovered in this sacred place.” He stared up at the sky with fear in his eyes as he said the word ‘overseers’.
Michael felt annoyed. This was his reward for scoring thirty points and leading his team to victory? A place with nothing in it except a dude named Carlos? Even though the bubble limited his ability to have a stripper party in his hotel room, at least he could invite teammates over and get blasted on booze from the mini-fridge. “This place sucks.”
Carlos frowned. “I am quite fond of it. It is a much more restful place than the ceaseless and tiresome difficulties which plague the realm of mortals. And you are the first visitor who has expressed displeasure at the accommodations.”
It was unfair, Michael thought, that his strong on-court performance had not been rewarded with even a single glimpse of female flesh. He reached for his phone, thinking he could at least look at some of the saved selfies he had gotten from various “intimate acquaintances” he had made during his time in the NBA, but remembered that his phone was not with him. It was probably still in the locker room, along with the teammates who wondered why the hero of the day was sitting limply at his locker with his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
Then a thought occurred to him. “If I really focus on thinking about chicks, do you think I can will them into existence?” He was still quite sure he was dreaming, despite Carlos’ explanations.
“No,” Carlos answered shortly, looking worried.
Michael screwed his eyes shut and imagined all the beautiful women he had ever met in his life. He was practically shaking with the force of his thought. Suddenly, there was a giggle to his left. And a hand pawing at him from his right. His robe was pulled off his body by somebody behind him..
“No! Stop it!” Carlos shouted in a panic. “They haven’t scored thirty! STOP!” Michael opened his eyes and saw at least a dozen women around him, with more appearing by the second. None were wearing any clothes.
He smiled. This was more like it.