The Piedmont family, eager for some excitement after weeks of deprivation training at the local desenz facility, were heading towards the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts. The young Piedmont boys were big basketball fans; at 7’1″ they were a starting point-guard tandem for their local high school team in the class of ’42. Their parents, born in the time before genetically engineered offspring, enjoyed the benefits of having tall children without the downsides. Their friends, the Van Gelders, had an 8-foot tall child, with hopes of him being a politician, but his great size had hindered his intellectual growth.
Their autocar glided easily through the silver-grey suburbs of the Boston megalopolis. Soon, the giant, pulsing Basketball appeared on the horizon. As they drew closer it grew ever more immense, until it filled their entire field of vision with radiant orange light. Their vehicle navigated them to the entrance, where they clambered out, deploying their infra-visors to protect them from the intense glare. The autocar whizzed away.
The statue at the entrance was the first attraction. A gigantic platinum representation of Tyler Zeller, guarding the way inside. In one hand he held a staff, in the other, a basketball, a miniature version of the building they were about to enter. The stature turned to look at them.
“Welcome to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame brought to you by KIA. Please, come in.” With that, it lifted its staff, revealing the door. “Enjoy your visit.”
The Piedmonts walked inside. The orange light was replaced quickly with a neon-green variety. Michelle and Olaf, the parents, had little interest in the exhibits detailing basketball’s history and its greatest player. They had their sights on the 8-star restaurant located at the apex of the building. The family split up, with the boys entering into the first exhibit, “History of the Game”.
They did not stay long, however. They wanted the real meat of the hall, and reading about James Naismith suspending peach baskets wasn’t their idea of a good time. The next room, and the last, was the “On Tyler Zeller” room.
Tyler Zeller was regarded as the best basketball player of all time, and was likely never to be surpassed after his amazing 86% performance from the field in the 2014-15 season. Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, and Bill Russell were just a small segment of the players who had their presence wiped and entirely forgotten.
Inside the room were more statues and likeness of the great man himself, with interactive video screens allowing guests to replay, in true 3Dultrareality, such masterful performances as “2014-11-18 versus Suns” and “2014-11-03 versus Mavericks”. Jackson, the younger Piedmont, grabbed the headset and began to relive the magic.
“Hey look, Paulus, I’m Tyler Zeller! I just totally hit a hook shot over some scrub from the Suns!”
“Wow, and I just made a jumper even though I didn’t have the benefit of being genetically engineered!” Paulus replied as he replayed a different game.
Ignored in the corners of the exhibit were small sections detailing the accomplishments, such as they were, of the lesser Zellers, Luke and Cody. Cody’s championship in 2021 with the Las Vegas Highrollers did little to challenge Tyler’s supremacy in the world of basketball. Luke’s brief stint with the Suns got barely a mention, lest too much space be taken away from detailing the richness and luxury of Tyler’s post-basketball career.
After a few hours, after which Jackson and Paulus had relived each of Tyler’s numerous championships, they returned to the entrance to meet their parents. Any longer, and the recreation agency would have them kicked out for exceeding their weekly quota.
“I hope you guys had a great time before we go back to desenz” Michelle said as they entered the waiting autocar.
Jackson smiled widely. “Yes, of course, these memories will surely be enough to get me through the weeks ahead!”