In the darkness of the uncomfortably warm, intolerably humid Florida night, beside one of the resort complex’s many outdoor swimming pools, a tall man reclined on a pool chair. The sunglasses he wore on his face were superfluous, given the general dimness of the moonlight, and the fact that he was fully clothed made it clear that he wasn’t there to go for a late-night swim. An observer happening upon the scene would assume that the man had fallen asleep there, with no friends who would rouse him and guide him to a proper bed.
But the man wasn’t asleep. He was very much awake. Underneath the sunglasses were wide-open eyes gazing deeply into the black night, as if trying to extract from it the tenebrous secrets of the cosmos.
Tyler Herro waited.
—
“Found you! Man, I was about to give up.”
Tyler didn’t bother sitting up or even turning his head to see who was addressing him. He recognized the voice. “I wish you had. I didn’t particularly want to be found.” His voice came out in a cold, almost mean, tone.
“Well, the party kind of sucks when the team’s leading scorer isn’t even there to partake in the festivities,” Solomon Hill continued. “You’ll have plenty of time to bask in your glory on your day off tomorrow. Tonight is for celebration.”
Tyler chuckled. “Funny that you mention ‘glory’. That’s why I’m out here. To make my triumphant return to the realm where I am swathed in eternal glory. But you wouldn’t understand.” While he was fond of Solomon, he held a private disdain for the older player’s notable lack of scoring ability. Solomon would have no idea what he was talking about, what glorious prize awaited him on the other side of reality’s mirror…
“You talkin’ about the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers?”
Now Tyler did sit up, lowering his sunglasses off his eyes to get a better look at Solomon’s shadowy, disheveled face. “How the hell do you know about the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers?”
It was Solomon’s turn to chuckle. “You might not believe it, but I scored thirty in a game once upon a time.”
“No way,” Tyler said in complete disbelief. “Don’t tell lies. The last time you scored thirty was when you played as yourself in NBA 2K, and to do it you had to hack the game to allow for thirty-minute quarters and no player substitutions.”
“Look it up. I’ll wait.”
Tyler begrudgingly got out his phone and typed “Solomon Hill stats” into Google. On the baskeball-reference page that came up, Tyler scrolled down to the “game highs” section, and there it was. Thirty points. Solomon wasn’t lying. Once upon a time, he had almost certainly been granted entry into The Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers, stewarded by the Official Guardian of the Hall, Carlos Delfino.
“Damn. Sorry for doubting you.”
“I think DownToBuck even made a highlight video for me,” Solomon said proudly. “So I think I have the necessary qualifications to tell you that you’re not going to go back to The Hall just by lying out here like you’re trying to get abducted by aliens.”
“Well, how else am I supposed to get there?” Tyler asked defensively, feeling that it was unfair that an inferior scoring talent like Solomon apparently knew more about the nature of The Hall, and the methods by which one traveled there, than he did.
“Pureness of heart is one of the criteria, I think,” Solomon answered, scratching his beard. “That’s what Carlos told me, anyway. But he was really distracted by the supposed wrath of a group of demigods that he called ‘The Overseers’, so I wasn’t really able to get a straight answer out of him about anything.”
Tyler got up from his chair. He had a sad feeling in his heart that there would be no visit to the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers that night. However, with that plan losing importance in his mind, he found that the prospect of partying with his teammates was very attractive. And why was he so hung up on The Hall, anyway? Sure, he had scored 37 points, but the important thing was that his team got the win, and, besides, there were more thirty-point games in his future. Nothing needed to be rushed. “Forget it, man. Let’s go party,” he said with a smile.
—
Solomon was glad he had been able to talk some sense into the rookie, but he now faced a different problem. “Hey, which way is our hotel? It’s disorienting out here in the dark,” he said, looking around for familiar landmarks or helpful signage. He turned back around to get Tyler’s input, but the rookie was nowhere to be seen. In a matter of seconds, he had vanished into thin air. Solomon spun around frantically, looking for any sign of him. “Tyler? Where’d you go? Tyler? TYLEEEER!!!!!”
His calls were met only with a deep, nocturnal silence. He looked up at the sky as if beseeching it for answers. “Enjoy hanging out with Carlos, I guess.”