The final buzzer sounded. Kobe looked out towards the roaring fans, feeling gratitude towards them even as an unfamiliar feeling of emptiness started to grow in his chest. He felt as if his identity as a basketball player had been stripped away. Looked at in that context, the relentless cheering could be interpreted as mocking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an ESPN personality waiting for a postgame interview. Kobe was thankful for being given some space to enjoy the moment, and waved at the fans.
The locker room tunnel was ahead of him, but nobody was going in or out of it just yet. For some reason, Kobe’s gaze was drawn towards that black, seemingly endless recession, even as teammates and opponents alike slapped him on the back. He autonomously gave out high-fives and meaningless “thank you’s,” but still his gaze did not waver.
Suddenly, a hazy grey figure appeared in the darkness. The figure wore a white robe to match his long white beard, and in his hand he carried a watch on a gold chain. As he drew closer, his form became more solid, but he stopped well short of Kobe. Instead, he stood at the entrance of the tunnel, and when he spoke, nobody but Kobe noticed, for the words were not said aloud, but directly transmitted into Kobe’s very soul. “The time has come, Kobe,” the old man said, checking his watch.
Kobe bowed his head sadly. He knew who this strange visitor was: it was Father Time, come to take him away from the sport he loved, forever. “I have long expected you,” he thought-spoke in reply.
Father Time chuckled as he sensed Kobe’s dark thoughts. “Do not worry, my son. I have not come to this place to take you against your will. Never! I have come here to ask you to join me.”
“Join you?” Kobe repeated dumbly. All of his accumulated wisdom had not prepared him for such an offer, and, at first, he could not even understand it. “In the timeless void of shattered NBA careers? I am surprised you are offering me a choice in this matter.” The raucous cheering and yelling continued unabated, but Kobe was not aware of these things, as he had withdrawn entirely into the interior world.
Shaking his head, Father Time said, “Kobe, you are the only one of your kind whom I can trust this burden with. I am asking you to join me, not in the purgatory where time has no meaning, but, instead, as a fellow Timelord.”
Kobe was staggered. For all he knew, there had only ever been one Timelord, and that was Father Time himself, the great temporal enforcer. He felt for sure that he was hallucinating.
“You are not hallucinating, Kobe,” Father Time stated firmly. “This is all very real. It is perhaps even more real than that which you have called ‘reality’ for all your decades on this Earth.”
Struck by the eminent truth of these words, Kobe’s decision was made without hesitation. “I will join you.” he said.
Father Time nodded, pulled a second golden watch out from the folds of his robe, and held it out. Kobe reached out to it, and despite the great distance between them, his hand reached it easily. When his fingers closed around the delicate timepiece, his mortal life and all its inconvenient trappings were left behind, leaving only a pure, immortal soul. A Timelord.
Kobe smiled. Father Time smiled in return. Then, they walked out of the arena, not as captive and jailor, but instead, side-by-side, as equals.